


Heaven's Grief= Hell's Rain

by Honestmouse



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Chapter Specific Warnings, Depression, Eating Disorders, Homophobic Slurs, In a way, M/M, Shy Gerard Way, Slow Burn, asshole frank!, bc gerard works at one, but no past rape/noncon, coffee shop AU, college dropout gerard, demon frank!, demon ray!, he really needs protecting in this one, heaven and hell au, i'll add tags as i go, lyn-z is gerard's platonic soul mate, mikey is the best brother, past abusive relationships, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 109,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmouse/pseuds/Honestmouse
Summary: Gerard's your typical college drop out.He lives in his parent's basement. His best friend is his little brother. He has a whole truck load of shit wrong with his head and a past he doesn't want to talk about.While Frank, on the other hand, isn't quite as average. He's a demon, hundreds of years old. He loves his job, really he does. He's on Hell's Guard, after all.So, how hard would the world shake if the two meet?
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 236
Kudos: 175





	1. I Think I'd Like to Die Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *mentions of eating disorders  
> *death mentions  
> *references to depression  
> *past abusive relationships  
> *past overdose  
> *homophobic slur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone!  
> This fic has been in the works since about October, when I wrote a two-shot for my Halloween challenge. As of right now, the fic is going to take place Before the events of those two chapters. So they're still cannon and would be considered spoilers for this. However, that might change at some point and I may deviate from that plotline.  
> This au was originally thought of after someone left a suggestion in the comments of my Halloween challenge so a very huge thank you to that person for giving me the idea for this story!! It has quickly become one of my favorite things I've been working on.  
> Also, a huge thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here on tumblr for all of her help and support over the past few months!  
> Alright, enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Cubicles by My Chemical Romance. That song is a major influence of how I've written Gerard's character. And the mood of that song is basically, supposed, to be the mood of this chapter*

“ _Please_!”

A deep laugh echoes through the room. It is the opposite of a real laugh, one full of happiness or amusement. No, this laugh does not belong to someone who is in any way _happy_. It’s only a mocking comparison to a _real_ laugh. It’s something else entirely. Nothing but cold and cruel. Insane is the best word that Frank can think of to describe it.

Frank, even after all of these years, has to fight in order to suppress the shiver that travels down his spine at the sound echoing around the courtroom. He has had that laugh directed towards himself only once. And he has no intention of repeating the occurrence.

Because that laugh means nothing good for whoever it’s directed towards. Which, in this case, is a small, brown haired, young man. He looks, to Frank at least, to be no older than twenty. 

_Innocent_ isn’t exactly a word that he would use to describe the boy, not after he read the brief file on him before this trial. He’s killed someone, another human. Vehicular manslaughter is the human term. But a death is a death. It’s not something that you can talk yourself out of. And this particular death is on the hands- or uh _soul_ -of the boy in front of him.

But this kid made the decision to drink and get behind the wheel, and Frank doesn’t make the rules. Not that he has any particular opinion on this or any case, should anyone ask.

“How do you plead?” the Devil sneers in a voice that matches his so called laugh.

It’s a deep, grumbling voice. Almost a growl. The slight twist of His pronunciation into an almost British intone does nothing to mask the complete power His presence holds. Frank isn’t in His direct presence often but he never looks forward to it when he is. No one is safe from those hollow eyes.

Understandably, the boy pales further, but he seems to wisen up and makes no more pleas. Frank thinks his name is James. Or maybe Jullian?

He’s not sure. But it’s not his job to remember the names of every unfortunate soul who comes through these doors. His _job_ is to make sure that His Highness stays safe and that no rowdy or ill-intended demons make a scene of this trial. Not that they’d have any reason to with a trial like this. 

Normally a single measly kill count wouldn’t amount to the Devil _himself_ conducting a trial. It’d simply be another name in the books, another soul passed into an eternity of torment. Nothing fancy, a typical day in the office so to speak. Though, Frank’s never worked in an office a day in his life.

But apperently, this guy’s accidental murder led to the brother of the dead guy going on a rage induced killing spree. The brother is still killing, wreaking havoc up on Earth, and this guy on trial is one of his latest victims. 

Frank’s only partially sure the trial is to see whether or not he’s responsible for the brother’s murders as well. It’s not like he’s really paying attention, anyway. Not like it’s any of his business. Not like he cares at all.

But, judging by the look on His face, the kid _is_ guilty. 

Just as the guy lets out a long, low wail of frustration when the Devil begins to list his crimes for the court, Frank releases his own sigh of boredom.

This trial has been going on for _hours_ and he’s almost hoping that something interesting will happen so that he doesn’t have to stand here any longer.

 _Almost_.

But, then again, Frank has a reputation to uphold. Wishing for a disturbance is probably treason and no one’s really been able to figure out if the Devil can actually read their minds or not. So he probably shouldn’t test that theory.

Besides, Frank’s the official guard for this trial and that means no one would be stupid enough to try something here. There is always that _one_ idiot, though. So Frank holds onto a tiny bit of hope that _something_ interesting will happen before he dies of boredom.

Frank risks a glance over to the Council’s chairs, his eyes instantly searching for the poof of brown, curly hair he knows so well. He finds Ray within seconds, sitting cramped in the back row and nearly hidden by the large, muscular guy sitting in front of him. Garret, Frank’s pretty sure his name is. Though, it’s not like anyone on the Council actually likes him enough to be on a first name basis. Except for Ray of course. 

But Ray’s different.

He stands out from the others in the Council, in more ways than one. Ray’s tall and his hair adds at least four inches to his height, making Frank be able to spot him rather easily. And while he’s strong, a hell of a lot stronger than most demons, his strength is in magics and words. Rather than brute strength like most others. And even though he towers over Frank in terms of height as well as strength, Ray is practically _dwarfed_ by demons like Garret who’re so tall that their heads could touch the ceilings. If all of the ceilings in the court weren’t at least 20 feet tall that is.

Frank watches Ray for a moment, probably longer than he should. Just observing the way his face twists in concentration. How his eyes dart from the Devil to the kid on trial. Frank’s _supposed_ to keep his head on a swivel, his attention on the room as a whole to ensure the safety of the court. But he’d overslept this morning, too engrossed in a book on human music late the night before, and had thus missed his plans for breakfast with Ray. He’d told Ray what had happened as he was getting ready, letting their minds speak across the short distance between their apartments. Thankfully, Ray hadn’t been upset. He’d simply rolled his eyes- an action that transfers surprisingly well through their telepathic conversations- and told Frank to be on time for court.

At the moment, and unlike Frank, Ray’s attention is solely on the trial and he nods his head along with whatever convictions the Devil is dealing out. He doesn’t look over to Frank- because _he_ knows better and Frank is just being reckless- but it’s not like Frank expected him to. Frank’s supposed to be watching over the entire room, so he’s allowed to zone out. To an extent. 

He’s confident though that if someone _does_ pull something here, he’ll be able to shut it down quickly.

Frank may be small, he may be weaker than some demons- demons like Ray- but he’s certainly stronger than he looks. And he wouldn’t be on the Guard if he wasn’t capable of his job.

And while _he’s_ allowed someleave for zoning out, Ray’s giving the verdict, along with the other Council members, so he has to be paying full attention. He’s a stickler for the rules, does things the old ways, and holds his job very seriously. But Ray also knows how to not get caught. That’s the one big thing he has over Frank. Other than the awesome hair.

Ray knows how to get away with shit. He’s a lot more of a rebel than first looks may suggest.

And so, Frank notices the tiniest twitch of Ray’s eyes in his direction. Both an acknowledgement of him and a warning to not draw attention to themselves. He’s telling Frank to behave. Typical.

It’s not like he was doing anything _wrong_ by checking in on his friend.

Ray’s been busy, like _stupid_ busy as of late. And so their time to just hang out, detox from work, and stuff their faces, has been horribly diminished. Frank’s _bored_ and he’s lonely. If not a little worried.

If anyone works their ass off down here, it’s Ray. He’s always doing something. Practicing, reading, working, cleaning up other people’s messes. Pretending to be a good demon. 

It’s exhausting and Frank can definitely see the soft grey of tired shadows under Ray’s eyes. Even with the reddish tint to the courtroom.

The color shading is mostly for show. To scare whoever’s on trial into confessing. 

If every part of Hell was this color, Frank’s pretty sure he’d have gone insane _years_ ago. 

He’s never been to Earth but he’s been told that the weather down here mimics the hotter climates up there. Hot and dry, but calm air. You get used to it really, even if the four layers of formal robes he has to wear to these things feel a bit excessive.

Sighing again, Frank lets his eyes roam over the rest of the court like he’s supposed to be doing. There're 15 demons, all of high rank, in the rows of seats at the back of the courtroom. It’s set up like a typical human court, as far as Frank can tell anyway. With the judge (that being the Devil) in the center and the Council on his right side. The other judges, who mainly conduct the trials that the Devil doesn’t care much about- which are most of them- are seated on the left side of the court. Dead center, in the middle of everyone else, the person on trial stands.

“Now that you know your crimes,” the Devil begins, his voice lowering an octave and making the boy shrink down to his knees in fear.

Frank winces, already knowing the verdict before He’s even said it. 

The kid is doomed. 

“What does the Council say?”

The Devil turns to the Council, slowly and for show. There’s a pause, one where for the briefest moment Frank can see the hesitation cross Ray’s face. Then he’s standing, clearing his throat and raising his chin. Ray’s eyes go cold and Frank suppresses a shiver.

He never tries to dwell on the rights or wrongs of these convictions. It isn’t his place.

It’s Ray’s. It’s the other Council members’.

He has no say in this. No matter how _wrong_ it feels in his gut.

“Guilty.”

The word doesn’t echo around the room. It’s short and said completely void of any emotions. It doesn’t even sound like Ray at all.

The kid on trial doesn’t wail or beg. Or do much of anything. It’s nothing like those human law shows that Frank will never admit he begged Ray to bring back for him. There’s no dramatic camera zoom, no tense music. No moment where the person on trial stands and throws out new information that changes everything.

There _is_ a pause though, like pulling a long breath before the plunge, where Frank can see the way the conviction hits the kid full force. He watches the hope leave the kid’s eyes, the way the Devil grins as he leans forward, like he’s waiting for the guillotine to drop.

If only.

There’s no more words, nothing but the scuffle of the guard as they drag the boy up from the floor. He doesn’t even look up when they pass by Frank at the door.

Frank holds his breath. He holds it until his lungs ache and everyone’s filing out of the room.

Because he knows exactly what that kid is feeling, as much as he hates to admit that. He knows it in his very bones. But that was a long time ago, and he’s not that same person. He’s not naive anymore, knows how to behave even though a part of him will always hate it. Hates seeing someone else get punished for something like this.

Ray is suddenly standing in front of him, his hand on Frank’s shoulder. He’s not sure if he flew over here or if he walked over and Frank was just too out of it to realize. Ray’s hand is warm, but not unpleasantly so, and strong. It’s grounding but also a wakeup call. This is him reminding Frank that the way he’s acting is a good way to get them caught.

Ray’s the only other demon Frank has met that has a conscience like he does, that feels _bad_ for dealing such horrible punishments. They confide in each other sometimes. Alone in their homes, in the dark of their bedrooms. Speaking silently through their minds. 

But only then. Never in public.

“Frank,” Ray says slowly when he can’t seem to shake himself out of it, almost like a warning.

The top of his head itches and burns with phantom pain. Not too long ago, it wasn’t just a memory. 

It was real. 

His horns were being ripped out of his skull and he was left to bleed to death on the floor. 

He’d very nearly died and he only has Ray’s magic to thank for the fact that he’s breathing right now. 

Ray was the one who convinced the court that Frank had only acted in self defence. That the other guy had struck first. That Frank had taken his eye for him taking his horns. 

That’s not what happened, Frank had attacked the other guy out of pent up aggression and all it had taken was one word from the other guy’s mouth before they were fighting. 

His hand absently goes up to feel the smooth edges of his growing horns. It’ll be years, _centuries_ until they’re back to the same size they were.

‘Later,’ Ray adds in his head.

He’s not sure if Ray knows what he’s thinking exactly, or if he’s really just that transparent. But Frank nods slowly and Ray removes his hand. There’s a hidden flash of concern in Ray’s eyes but he chooses to ignore it.

Nothing’s wrong, nothing that Frank isn’t responsible for anyway.

“Wanna take lunch together?” Ray says aloud, an easy smile on his face.

___________________________________

Gerard groans as his feet hit the cool hardwood floor of his room. His alarm blares loudly from across the room and he curses outwardly as he stumbles towards it. 

He trips over something on the floor and rams his hip into the side of the dresser hard enough to hurt. Squeezing his eyes shut and grunting out a long stream of profanities, Gerard finally makes it across the room. He turns the alarm off with more force than is probably necessary and scrubs a hand down his face. 6:04am, reads the time on his phone. The happy picture of him and Mikey that their mom snapped a few Christmases ago smiles back to him. 

But the exhaustion laying heavy over him at the moment makes him roll his eyes. The happy looking Gerard on his lock screen had _coffee_. And wasn’t up at six in the fucking morning. 

Rubbing the sore spot on his hip, Gerard trudges over to turn on his light switch. He blinks for a moment against the sudden brightness, even though he’s the one who turned on the light. A very quick glance in the mirror once he’s stripped off his shirt reveals an already bruising mark right on his hip bone. 

_Great_.

He’s going to have to hide it from Mikey, make sure he doesn’t reach for something and let his shirt come up. If his brother saw, he’d only assume the worst. 

He tears his eyes away from the mirror as quickly as he can, but only after assuring himself that he's probably not bleeding internally or anything. 

He can hear Mikey quietly getting ready as well. The soft sound of his brother’s closet door creaking travels through the quiet of their home. If he strains, he can hear the sound of his mother snoring from across the house. 

Mikey’s job at the library means he has to be at work super early. Like seven in the _morning_ levels of way too fucking early. Though that’s not really _that_ much earlier than when Gerard has to be at work, he has to admit. The library may open at an ungodly hour but the reasoning behind it isn't so bad. 

It's so they can be open for the local college students, who always pile in before classes to work on assignments and things. The college is just down the street from the library, so it’s actually closer for some kids to go there instead of going all the way to campus. And since Mikey actually goes to the college, he can get his school work done while at work. 

As Gerard peels off his pajama pants, he can’t help but think about how much of the day Mikey used to sleep away, back in high school. How he dreaded doing schoolwork. But college is different, Gerard knows that. It’s not the same as high school and that’s the entire point. You’re supposed to figure out what you like, what you’re interested in, and build yourself from there. Mikey’s just figured it out faster than most kids do. 

Gerard puts on the closest moderately clean jeans that he can find, even though there’s a splatter of white paint on the knee. It doesn’t matter, he stands behind a counter anyway. No one will be able to notice.

He’s proud of Mikey. Like, genuinely, he is. Even if he’s still getting used to the fact that his previously nocturnal brother now wakes up at 6am every day and is _excited_ to go to work. Then again, Gerard doesn't have much room to talk because he once went a whole _month_ without leaving the house back when he was in high school. It wasn't nearly as bad as you'd think. He just hadn't felt like going out. No big deal. His room is comfortable and he has a bathroom and a coffee pot down here too. He’d rather stay in most of the time nowadays too but he has a job and things now, so, unfortunately, he can’t.

However, around this time last year Gerard had gone over _six months_ without leaving his apartment. With only ever talking to one person. Which sorta _was_ a big deal, looking back on it. It’s so obvious now. How bad things were. But, at the time, Gerard hadn’t been able to see it. 

But he’d only been inside for so long because of-

Gerard shakes his head hard enough to make himself dizzy. An attempt to sever where that train of thought was heading. He’s already got a feeling that today is going to be a rough one, one of the days where his head won’t shut up. Where it keeps throwing the past into the present and basically wishing him good luck with figuring out what to do. But, he’ll deal with that if and when it comes to it. It’s too early to be caught up on shit like that.

Besides, the point of all of this before he got distracted, was that Gerard is an adult now. And he guesses that _that_ means waking up at six in the fucking morning is normal and that he shouldn’t be complaining. Or some other capitalist propaganda bullshit that sounds like it came right from some CEO’s mouth. 

He’s not exactly happy about it but he’s the dumbass who dropped out of school so really, it’s his own fault.

As he pulls on an oversized hoodie, Gerard lets his mind drift back to the book he was reading just before he fell asleep. It was one he’s read before, about the different legends behind ghosts throughout the centuries. The pages are well worn, with hand scribbled notes and doodles crammed into the margins. There’s quite a few pages that he’s bookmarked with old sticky notes or receipts. He’d actually stayed up later than he’d intended last night but, at the time, it was worth it. An extra chapter or two, or three, was easy to give up sleep for.

Now though, as he nearly trips up the steps on his zombie-like trudge towards the fancy coffee pot in the kitchen, he’s not so sure. 

“Morning,” Mikey says pleasantly from behind his mug, a smile in his voice even though there isn’t one on his face.

He’s leaning back against the counter, coffee in one hand and phone in the other. Gerard’s not sure who the hell he could be texting so early, but Mikey’s fingers never skip a beat as they fly over the screen.

Managing to grumble something close to a good morning in reply, Gerard rubs his sore hip and pours himself a cup. He runs a hand through his hair and debates absentmindedly whether or not he’s going to deal with styling it today. It’s getting long, nearly down to his shoulders now, and so he can’t just smear some product on his fingers and run his hand through it. He’d have to like, put _actual_ effort in. 

Then again, he’s got his favorite grey beanie fresh from the wash and sitting ready on his dresser. It’s always a good option when he doesn’t want to take the time to mess with his hair now that it’s longer. 

But, don’t get him wrong, Gerard prefers it longer. He’s never felt right with super short hair, where he can’t run his fingers through it when he draws. He enjoys styling it, enjoys the way he can match his outfit to his hairstyle whenever he has a little extra time in the morning. And, his hair has gotten so long now that he can put it in a proper bun, much to his delight. 

Then again, Gerard’s always been a bit more on the feminine side. It’s just been a while since he’s been allowed to show that side of himself. Even so, it’s stupidly early and he’s not really in the mood for a bun today anyway. So, beanie it is.

Besides, it’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone at work or anything. God _forbid_ one of the soccer moms thinks his hair is messy or something. He already gets enough shit for the teal in his roots. Which, if he’s honest, was an accident at first. But now he’s gotten attached to the color and has re-dyed it several times. So yeah, it’s not like any of his goals are to impress random customers who might have a problem with the color of his hair.

Mikey clambering around in the fridge wakes Gerard up a bit more and he sips on his coffee as he watches his brother search for breakfast. 

“Mom go shopping?” he asks, voice muffled because his head is all the way inside the fridge.

“Yeah, went yesterday.”

She’d tried to get Gerard to go with her, insisting he needed to get out of the house or something. But crowded supermarkets and a talkative mother are a bad combination and definitely _not_ on his list of reasons to leave the house that day. He couldn’t miss the flash of sadness in her eyes when he’d said as such, but it was gone quickly as she’d rushed out the door. 

Gerard _does_ sorta feel bad for it, for worrying her, but not bad enough to go with her next time either. He’ll have to do the dishes or something on his next day off, to make it up to her.

Mikey re-appears a moment later, victorious with a small tub of cream cheese in his hand. Gerard steps aside as he bee-lines for the bagels on the counter behind where he was standing.

Soon enough, Mikey’s plopping down at the island and shoving the bagel in his mouth like it’s his last meal. He eyes Gerard though, not really _insisting_ , but clearly asking.

Gerard’s not hungry- he and Mikey had ordered take out last night since their mom was at her book club, and he’d eaten way more than enough. He grabs a granola bar anyway. Just so Mikey won’t worry over him.

He catches Mikey’s smile behind his mug on his next sip.

The alarm on Gerard’s phone goes off again, reminding him he really needs to be leaving soon if he wants to make it to work on time. 

________________________________

He and Mikey walk down the sidewalk in comfortable silence.

The early October wind is bitter and cold, but Gerard’s thick jacket does a good enough job of keeping him warm. He worries about _Mikey_ actually, the kid’s always cold and the weather isn’t exactly showing signs of spring yet.

Not that he has any real reason to worry. Mikey has on an even bigger coat than he does, fuzzy socks under his dress shoes, and thick dress pants that hold in the warmth. His long, forest green sweater is also really good at keeping in the heat. 

And he tells Gerard as such, when he catches him watching him.

He’s right, his clothes are good for the weather. He does look like a librarian though, which Gerard supposes is sort of the _point_.

Even with the large backpack slung over his shoulder, Mikey somehow manages to look older than him. Maybe it’s the height, or the fact that he has a “real” job. But despite this, Gerard can’t help worrying over him. He’s the older brother. Despite everything, it’s his _job_ to worry.

With the frigid, harsh wind and the grey overcast, it’s perfect weather for someone like Mikey to get sick. And so close to midterms? No, Mikey would be _miserable_ if he got sick. Because Gerard knows for a fact that he wouldn’t even give himself a break from his school work.

But he says none of this out loud. Mostly because Mikey _is_ properly layered. Gerard’s just being anxious over nothing and Mikey would no doubt tell him exactly the same if he were to bring it up.

So, Gerard turns his attention to the familiar sidewalks of his home town. To the old, faded brick buildings that line the streets. Some already open for the day, spilling soft light onto the sidewalks out front. Tired workers shuffling about on their morning routine. 

The leaves are already changing colors and beginning to fall, leaving scattered splotches of color on the brown and dying grass. He purposely steps on a faded orange leaf and smiles when it makes a satisfying crunch. A few of the shops along this street have decorations up. A mix between simple harvest decorations like scarecrows and uncarved pumpkins, and purple lights strung up alongside fake cobwebs. 

On the last block of their walk, Mikey slides his phone into his pocket and Gerard smiles because this is always his favorite part. When his brother _isn’t_ texting everyone in the entire city and is instead focused completely on him. 

He never says this though, even as he wishes this part of the walk was longer so that Mikey can keep asking him about the book he was reading last night. As if Mikey hasn’t read it cover to cover just like he has. 

Gerard just never brings up how much he looks forward to this part of their day. Because Mikey worries enough as is and he’s not about to add more onto his shoulders. It's not like Mikey doesn't pay attention to him or anything, quite the opposite really. Gerard's just _needy_ and fears that his brother is secretly sick of him.

I mean, come on. Gerard is a 23 year old dude living in his parents’ basement, _again_. They all said he was more than welcome to move back home, give himself time to figure everything out, but he knows it’s been an odd adjustment. He can feel the way it settles over the table on the scattered days where they’re all home for dinner. In the too quiet movie nights with his brother. The ones where they used to talk over the movies rather than actually watch them. 

And maybe that doesn’t mean his family is sick of him, maybe this is just the adjustment period and things will be back to normal soon, but it’s difficult to ignore the part of him that’s insisting he’s a burden. 

He tells himself that it’s just his imagination, his anxiety. And that helps a little. But it _doesn't_ mean he can give Mikey a heart attack by telling him that he feels this way. 

Not when he’s been doing so good recently. Gerard knows everyone is just waiting for that pen to drop. For something to go wrong and everything to shatter again. For Gerard to turn up at his parents’ door at four in the morning, overdosed on his antidepressants and starving. 

He’s certain none of them have forgotten that night. How could they?

Truth is, neither has he. They probably never will. But, with his mother and Mikey’s help, he’s gotten better. Is _getting_ better. A year is a long time, after all. A lot has changed. 

Gerard has changed.

He does laundry without his mom asking, goes to work on time. Eats with his brother on their lunch break. It's an improvement. Even if he continues to have moments like this one, has days like this where his head is louder than the outside world. Where he knows he’s drifting, where he knows he’s let the conversation Mikey was trying to keep drop. Or the worse ones. When he’s alone in his room and it feels like day one again. His stomach freshly pumped and his mom and Mikey checking in on him every hour. 

With his dad simply refusing to acknowledge things at all.

Mikey bumps his shoulder with Gerard’s, harder than necessary. Gerard stumbles and nearly falls, but it does the trick. It startles him out of the past.

“You’re thinking too much,” Mikey tells him seriously, a silent prompt for Gerard to tell him what’s wrong.

And he probably _should_ tell Mikey what he was thinking of, thank him for not turning him away at the door that night. Or maybe he should just make a joke, brush it off. Mikey stresses too much over him anyway.

Mikey’s been the biggest reason Gerard’s gotten this far. He cheers him on, tells him when he’s being stupid and letting his anxiety pull the reins. Mikey is the one who helped Gerard get this job, who knows Gerard’s having a bad day just by looking at him. 

In fact, he’s been trying to convince Gerard to give his number to his coworker, Lyn-z, basically since he started this job. And Mikey _does_ have a point. Lyn-z is one of the few people who have gone out of their way to talk to Gerard. She says hello when she comes into work, asks how he’s slept and whether or not he’s had a bad day. She always listens when he has to rant about a customer who called him a fag simply because he felt brave enough to wear visible eyeliner that day. She’s the closest thing Gerard has had to a real friend in years and Mikey is constantly telling him to share his number with her. So he might have _actual_ people to talk to, rather than just his parents and Mikey. 

But the thing is, that’s a _big_ step. Huge even.

He wasn’t allowed to make friends before, or talk to people at all, really. He’s out of practice and he was never really that good in the first place if he’s honest. Sure, he’d _like_ to be able to talk to Lyn-z after work, maybe invite her to a movie night or something. But he doesn’t have the guts to initiate the number exchanging conversation. He’d give her his number if she asks, otherwise it’ll just feel like she’s giving it to him out of pity or something. The sad loner who lives in his parent’s basement sympathy card.

And besides, it’s just been so long since he’s talked to someone- who wasn’t Mikey or their mom- through text. He’s not quite ready for the whole, continued human interaction thing. Maybe later, when it’s warmer outside and he isn’t grouchy from the cold or down because of the lack of daylight.

Mikey’s let the question drop, Gerard realizes belatedly. He’s just quietly walking beside Gerard, probably aware of exactly what is going through his mind. Guilt bubbles up at that, at the realization that Mikey was having a conversation with him but Gerard’s too lost in his own head to carry it. 

He’s about to apologize, to ask Mikey to repeat what he said. But then he notices that the library has gotten closer and Gerard’s semi-decent mood begins to drop. He’s normally alright when Mikey is around, almost like he’s a safety net or something for all of the bad shit that goes on in Gerard’s mind. Just knowing that his brother is right there. And, it’s _dumb_ , but the second Mikey starts turning from the sidewalk, Gerard feels his chest begin to tighten.

“See you later,” Mikey tells Gerard sincerely, almost like he’s aware how much he’s panicking. 

But before he can answer, Mikey’s already turning off the sidewalk and onto the little concrete path that leads to the library’s front doors. He doesn’t seem to notice how Gerard is very close to just turning around and going _home_.

He forces himself to not bolt back the way they came and, instead, pauses for a moment to simply admire the library. To block out the way his thoughts seem to be running in circles today.

The library is actually a really nice building, Gerard has to admit, with more of a gothic style to it rather than the square brick look most other structures in the city have. It’s an old building but clearly, it’s been well kept. There’s large glass windows that frame each floor, with beautiful arches along the outsides. The off white outer wall makes it look far more clean than the buildings surrounding it and Gerard can just barely make out the shelves inside that are closest to the windows. There’s a mini garden of sorts between the main sidewalk and the front doors. Complete with a few modestly sized trees and little plots where flowers will be planted when spring comes back around. Shrubs, green despite the cold, line the outer wall along the lower floor. The grass is a sickly shade of green. But, despite the fall dreariness that seems to smother the life out of most places, the library always feels like springtime to him. 

Maybe it’s because Gerard associates it with Mikey, with the familiarity and safety that his brother gives him. He’s spent countless hours curled up in one of the library’s comfortable chairs, with a book, or a comic, or even his sketchbook. It was his escape for a while, back when things first started to get bad. 

He forces himself to not think about when he wasn’t allowed to come here, when just asking to leave the house would lead to-

No. He stops that train of thought- _again_ \- before it can build, and returns to his walk. 

To continue to keep his mind carefully away from all of the things that seem to be just a little louder today, Gerard thinks of the coffee he’ll make once he gets to work. 

Perks of working in a coffee shop: free coffee. 

He’s thinking of possibly doing a peppermint latte, with a little bit of whipped cream on top as a treat. Yeah, that actually sounds perfect right about now. And, it’ll warm him up for sure.

After just a few more minutes of walking he makes it to the familiar building of the coffee shop.

His work isn’t nearly as impressive as Mikey’s. It’s just a small, square hole in the wall just off of main street, downtown. They have rectangular windows with advertisements carefully scripted with window paint, courtesy of Gerard. There’s even little cartoon coffee mugs and treats drawn on as well. He’d spent a whole day working on it, by himself with music playing over the speakers through the empty store. It was nice actually and he’s sorta proud of how the lettering came out. Plus, it brings in customers so his boss was happy too.

Thankfully, it’s still early enough to where there’s not a lot of people on the streets and Gerard takes his time in pulling his keys from his pocket. The door opens with a familiar creak of old wood against even older metal hinges. 

Another perk of working here: Lyn-z. 

Now, Gerard is gay. Like so gay isn’t not even funny. But if platonic soulmates are a thing, he’s _certain_ that Lyn-z would be his. Despite the fact that they don’t talk outside of work, he feels close to her. She listens when he’s having a bad day and all it takes is a customer getting snippy with him for him to be curled up in the back room. Crying into his knees and trying to remind himself that this is different. 

She always listens in times like those and she always knows exactly what to say. Gerard swears that she and Mikey are in cahoots about keeping an eye on him. Because somehow Mikey will always be able to tell that she’s had to cheer Gerard up.

But, on a lighter note, Lyn-z always works evenings. So, she turns up the heat before closing, just for Gerard. He gets cold easily and trying to open up while shivering half to death isn’t fun. 

On days like today, the warm air is greatly appreciated. It’s nice to know that Lyn-z thought of him and cares enough to do something as simple as turning up the thermostat. And maybe Gerard’s just an ex liberal arts major who’s reading too much into things just like always, romanticizing a thermostat of all things. But it’s a nice sentiment all the same.

As he peels off a few layers and gets to work doing the general opening things, he makes a mental note to do something nice for Lyn-z soon. Maybe today will be the day he finally works up the courage to invite her to movie night.

He’s got a little while before customers come in anyway so he takes his time opening the register and pulling out the things he’s going to need in order to do the baking today. It’s one of the odd occasions where he wasn’t almost late and even though he’s tired, he gets through the opening routine easily enough.

Gerard even has enough time to spare that he can sit at one of the tables as he sips his coffee. He spends the extra 10 minutes doodling in the sketchbook he brought with him in his bag until it’s time to open. He should have brough his pens too, because the pencil just isn’t making the lines the same as the way he’s picturing it in his head. He’ll make sure to grab them tomorrow.

_________________________________

With the steady stream of customers, lunch time rolls around fairly quickly. And, right on time, Mikey strolls in wearing an easy smile and texting away as always. Gerard’s honestly not sure how he even _knows_ that many people, let alone how he’s able to remember each conversation. 

He’s never been the type of person to have a lot of friends but even in high school, where you’re basically forced to talk to a couple hundred kids every day, Gerard didn’t talk to half as many people as Mikey does. 

Mikey comes up to the counter as Gerard slides his usual across. There’s not much of a rush today so thankfully that means they can chat without holding up other customers. Not that Mikey has to pay for his coffee. Gerard’s not _that_ much of an asshole.

“How’s the crowds today?” his brother asks lightly, taking a chunk out of his chocolate muffin like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get a bite this exact second.

He can’t help but wince at that. Gerard’s been working himself up all morning to attempt the entire sandwich _and_ the little thing of crackers that he brought with him today. But it’s been a struggle.

He’s better now, _really he is_ , but sometimes he wonders if it’s ever going to be as easy as simply sitting down and just eating. It’s doubtful, considering he’s currently regretting the whipped cream on his morning coffee. He’s not… _guilty_... exactly, but he still doesn’t feel happy with himself for it. Whipped cream is nothing but sugar and-

“Gee.”

He blinks, finally noticing Mikey’s piercing look. How he has one brow raised, the muffin all but forgotten in his hand. Hell, even his coffee is forgotten.

Mikey’s seen right through him. _Shit_.

“Busy day?” Mikey asks again, his brows raising even more and betraying his concern.

He’s waiting for Gerard to spill, for him to tell him what today’s crisis is. And even though he doesn’t really _want_ to tell Mikey what’s wrong, he knows that he needs to. 

“Sorta?” he starts uncertainly, subconsciously pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down to cover his hands out of habit. “I just uh… it’s kinda dumb.”

Mikey shakes his head. “Not dumb. What’s wrong?”

Gerard glances behind Mikey but there’s not even any customers in line- or in the store at all- so he can’t claim that he has work to do as an excuse. He sighs, knowing that he’s not going to be able to get out of this.

“Long or short version,” he relents at last, bracing his arms on the counter and leaning a bit towards Mikey so he can lower his voice, but his brother will still be able to hear him.

Even with no-one else in the store, he doesn’t want to just shout that he’s debating whether he deserves his lunch or not. He’s guilty for being guilty. 

Fuck…. He’s a mess isn’t he?

“Whichever is the truth,” Mikey says with a shrug.

Gerard stares down at the counter and takes a moment to prepare himself for the worst. Whatever that might be.

“I just… um- put whipped cream on my coffee and I packed a lot today and um…”

How is it _still_ so hard to say these things?

To _Mikey_ of all people. One of the only people who actually knows about this shit.

“You’ve been working all day,” Mikey begins, his voice just as quiet, because he knows Gerard freaks out over this sort of thing. “On your feet and helping customers. Not to mention the walk here. _And_ -” he shoots Gerard a long look, making sure he’s _really_ listening. “And even if you’ve spent all day on the couch napping or watching TV, you _need_ to eat.”

A, _yeah, but_ is just on the tip of Gerard’s tongue but he fights the urge to start spouting calorie counts and things. 

He’s not supposed to be counting. That’s their rule.

And he’s _not_ , not _really_ anyway. Even so, he can probably come up with a rough estimate of the past few days easily, because all those numbers floating around in your head don’t just _go away_. 

The peppermint was 90 calories a serving and he’d put three pumps into his latte. So that’s 270. And then the whipped cream was 30. And the coffee itself was 15. And _then_ the granola bar he had this morning was 250. So, rough estimate, 565. And it’s not even 2 pm yet!

“ _Gee_.”

The sharpness to Mikey’s voice tells him he’s taken too long to answer, that he’s beginning to _actually_ worry him now. That Mikey has read his mind and can see all the numbers running around in his head right now. 

Is he disappointed in Gerard for counting?

He hadn’t meant to, not at first. He can’t help it, out of habit he turns containers around and makes mental notes of the bolded numbers on the Nutrition Facts. After doing something for so long, after letting it become such a big part of his life, Gerard is still learning to let that stuff go.

But Mikey’s right. And Gerard knows that he is. He’s always right about this sort of thing. 

Because he _has_ been on his feet all day. And, as much as he doesn’t want him to, he knows that Mikey isn’t going to leave now until Gerard eats something. Mikey isn’t at all afraid to be late to his evening classes. Gerard knows that for a fact.

And if _that_ doesn’t work, Lyn-z will probably just be able to _tell_ that something’s up. Because she’s a fucking psychic and always seems to know when Gerard’s having a bad day. She’s worse than Mikey sometimes about getting onto Gerard for not taking care of himself. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t appreciate it. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a best friend in a long time.

“Eat with me?” Gerard manages, hating how shaky his voice comes out.

But he always does a little better if Mikey eats with him. Because Mikey has a desk job and if _he_ can eat whatever the hell he wants, then so can Gerard. It’s solid logic if Gerard doesn’t think of Mikey’s high metabolism or his jean size.

“Of _course_ , Gee,” Mikey says, relief visible in the way he’s smiling. “Grab your things, I’ll lock the door.”

Gerard passes him his keys and goes to grab his things from the back. They sit down together in one of the booths and Mikey starts unwrapping one of the sandwiches that the coffee shop sells. Gerard _would_ eat one of those, since then he wouldn't have to wake up early to pack, but they’ve got like three slices of cheese and two different meats _and_ a bunch of other things on top of _that_.

He’s barely managing with his basic turkey and swiss on wheat, thanks.

Mikey doesn't watch him eat, which he’s thankful for. Having people stare at him makes it harder, unsurprisingly. Makes him self conscious, wondering if they’re looking at the food in his hands and assuming he’s faked it all. He must have, right? If he’s able to eat something so high in carbs so easily. At least, that’s what that little voice in the back of his head whispers, the one that’s been pestering him worse than usual today. Even though he’s aware that Mikey is probably just thinking about something cheesy like how proud he is of Gerard. Or maybe wondering when the last time it was that Gerard washed his hair. (Which, not even _he_ knows the answer to that question, but that’s besides the point)

So, Gerard shakes his head and forces himself to take a bite before he can talk himself out of it. He quickly realizes that he _was_ hungry, more so than he thought he’d be. 

The sandwich is good. He’d put some pepper on the bread, on top of the cheese, so it’s pretty tasty while also staying mostly healthy. 

He can do this. 

He takes another bite. This one is easier. 

“Had a kid fuckin’ spill an entire juice box today,” Mikey begins randomly, chuckling to himself.

Gerard laughs too, just from the image that pops up in his head. Mikey nods seriously, a grin worming its way across his face. This is an obvious attempt to distract Gerard, to ease some of his anxiety, but he doesn’t mind at all. He needs this. This is why he goes to Mikey with this sort of thing. Why he needs his brother so much.

“Yeah,” Mikey continues, barely containing his laugher. “The kid just _stabbed_ it in th’ side with the straw and let it pour all over the fucking place.”

They both laugh and Mikey starts bitching about how hard it was to clean fruit punch flavored juice out of white carpets. How the kid hadn’t acted the least bit sorry and how the kid’s mom had actually yelled at _Mikey_ for glaring at the little gremlin. By the end of the story they’re both giggling too much to speak and both of their lunches are eaten. Gerard’s ribs hurt from laughing so hard but he relishes in it. In the proof that he’s okay. That he hasn’t lost the ability to have moments like this.

Some days he’s better than this, some days he can sit down and eat with only the smallest thought behind it. Others are even more of a struggle than today was. But, looking back to a year ago, he’s honestly come pretty damn far.

His shift gets a little bit less enjoyable though, after Mikey leaves. The weather clears up and with it, customers have time to stop in on their way home from work or on their lunch breaks. Three o’clock is busy, just like always, and it leaves him scrambling to try and make orders in a timely manner. He spills at least three drinks, fumbles with change twice, but thankfully things slow down a little after that. At four, Lyn-z comes in.

She takes one look at him and frowns. He’s being pulled into a hug before he even has the chance to object. Not that he would ever object to a Lyn-z hug. Her’s are the best, only overshadowed by Mikey’s. (and maybe his mother’s) 

And yeah, he wasn’t kidding when he said she might be psychic. Either that or everything he’s thinking is right on his face and she just knows how to read him. He’s going with the first one, because it means that it’s not his fault that she worries. Or, something like that.

“You doin’ alright hun?” she asks gently once Gerard works up the strength to pull away.

“Yeah,” he answers, honestly. “My head’s just kinda loud today.”

Despite his vague answer, Lyn-z gives him an understanding, yet sympathetic, smile and nod of her head. Like she gets it. 

“You had lunch yet?”

She gets the same look Mikey had earlier, that concern carefully toned down. He doesn’t particularly like the fact that so many people have to look after him, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. All things considered.

The proud smile that she gives him when he nods is enough to make the lingering tightness in his chest lessen ever so slightly. He’s never actually told her what he’s been through, how messy his head can get, but, somehow, she knows about his struggle. Or at least, has put the pieces together enough to get the gist of it. 

He’s still not sure if he’d be able to just tell Lyn-z why he’s like this. Even though he knows that she’d never think differently of him. She knows that he’s gay and that was a _huge_ step by itself. Telling her about everything else shouldn’t be as hard as it is. 

But Gerard’s just not ready. Not yet.

He glances out the window, at the lazy stream of people living their lives on the sidewalk outside. At the way the sunshine streams through the painted windows, painting patterns and rainbows across the tables in the seating area. How there’s a napkin under table 2, a half eaten piece of banana bread on table 6. 

“Hey, uh- Linds?”

“Hmm?” she answers distractedly, already busy counting the register before she starts her shift.

They only have a few moments before a customer is sure to come in. 

“I was wondering if you- if you uh-”

This gets her attention. She turns towards him, frowning slightly. He fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers and trying to assure himself that this is _Lyn-z_ for fucks sake. She’s his _friend_.

“Friday,” he says quickly, wincing at how loud it’d come out. “Uh… Friday is movie night.”

She gives him a look. Not a bad look, necessarily, but definitely confused. 

He’s never been good at talking to people but come _on_ , this is a new low. 

“I mean- um… me an’ Mikey always order too much pizza and uh…”

Lyn-z smiles, a big, proud sort of smile that only makes Gerard the one that’s now confused.

“I’d love to come over,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world, continuing to count the money without looking down. “What’s your number?”

Gerard blinks. It takes him a moment or two to get his brain to come back online, for him to realize that she does want to hang out with him outside of work. He has a _friend_. Holy _shit_.

Mikey’s gonna be so proud of him.

He fumbles his way through scribbling his number on a spare napkin and Lyn-z beams at him when he hands it to her. She folds it carefully before shoving it into her pocket.

“Text me the time, yeah?” she asks as she hands him a torn piece of paper with _her_ number on it.

Gerard nods and he’s about to do something dumb, like thank her for being his friend or something, but the door chime goes off as a customer comes in. And he’s saved. 

It’s just an older lady with white, carefully curled hair and a purse probably big enough for Mikey to fit into. She squints when she comes up to the register, eyes raking over Lyn-z in disapproval. 

“Hello,” Lyn-z greets brightly, customer service voice perfectly in place. “How are you doing today?”

Gerard busies himself with a washcloth and a spray bottle, going around to the tables and cleaning up. He does his best to hold in a laugh when the old lady reminds Lyn-z that “tattoos are permanent you know,” and that she “will regret them one day”.

“Yeah well, I’d rather have done something I regret by the time I’m 80 than regret not doing anything at all,” Lyn-z replies, handing over a bag of pastries with her smile firmly in place.

The old lady stiffens and huffs, turning towards the door and rolling her eyes when she notices Gerard watching. The second the door closes both him and Lyn-z are giggling like they’re little kids.

“Jesus Linds, way to call her out.”

She shrugs and rubs at the fresh ink on her wrist. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that.”

“Oh I believe it. I get old ladies harassing me about my life decisions all the time.”

Namely it’s the long, dyed hair, the occasional smudging of eyeliner that he has to work himself up to doing. He hasn’t worn a skirt in years, doesn’t even own one anymore. But he’s sure there’s a whole generation of people who he’ll disappoint if and when he comes into work in one of those pastel hoop skirts that he used to love so much.

___________________________________________

“You’ve got an assignment,” Ray tells Frank out of the blue, as they’re putting their things away after a particularly good jam session. 

Frank’s guitar is one of his most prized possessions and he sets it back in it’s case with more care than he gives just about anything. He’s extremely lucky to even have it in the first place. Instruments aren’t exactly widespread down here. But, about 30 years ago, he'd managed to convince Ray to bring it back for him on one of his last assignments to Earth.

Frank had to ask him to get it for him because, well he doesn’t _get_ those sorts of assignments. He just doesn’t. Most of his assignments consist of guarding new prisoners or dragging traitors into the courtroom when they resist. He’s never even _been_ to Earth. 

Ray on the other hand, he’s been to Earth more times than Frank can count. He always comes back with _something_. A piece of clothing, music, food. And one time a hickey but Frank knows better than to ask about _that_. But he always comes back with something to show Frank, a story to tell, or a souvenir to show him. If it weren’t for Ray, Frank doesn’t think he’d know what Earth looks like at all.

The way Ray’s said this though, all quiet and hesitant, like he’s preparing to tell him bad news, makes Frank pause. It’s like Ray is trying to tell him that his hamster died or something. But Frank doesn’t _have_ a hamster and he gets the feeling that if it’s bothering Ray this much, it must be something big.

 _What_ though, he hasn’t the slightest.

“Must be big if you know about it,” he ventures, leaning back onto Ray’s bed and stretching his arms up until his shoulders pop pleasantly.

He’s been sitting too long today but it was his day off, so all he really wanted to do was play until his fingers bled. Which, looking at his blistered and red fingers, he’s accomplished that goal. He’ll be healed by morning anyway, so it’s no big deal. Frank feels pretty accomplished, if he’s honest.

“It is.”

The seriousness in Ray’s tone cuts out any smile or joke that was on the tip of Frank’s lips. He sits up suddenly and watches his best friend put away his own guitar for a moment. They’d been having fun today, the jam session lasting for _hours_ until Ray finally called it a day. There’s food already in Ray’s oven while they clean up.

Frank manages to catch his eye and Ray sighs deep enough to where his shoulders slump on the exhale. Without a word he comes over and takes Frank’s hands into his own, turning them up so he can study the sluggishly bleeding blisters covering his fingertips.

A red tint passes over the room as Ray heals his hands for him. The warmth of his magic flows through Frank and he can’t deny that it calms his nerves a little. Ray doesn’t have to heal him, Frank’s own magic would do the job within a couple of hours at most. But it’s nice to be taken care of, so he doesn’t point this out. 

“It’s to test your loyalty,” Ray relents reluctantly under his breath. 

His concentration is mostly on Frank’s fingers. But there’s something troubled in his eyes, like he’s more worried than he’s letting on. What does _Ray_ ,of all demons, have to worry about?

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he adds, swiping his fingers over a particularly bad blister on Frank’s index finger. 

He grunts in discomfort but Ray heals it a second later with a pleasant rush of warmth lancing up his arm.

After a few more moments of silence, Frank has to ask. “What’re they having me do?”

“It’s on Earth,” Ray admits quickly, as if he had to say it before he lost the nerve to.

Frank waits on him to elaborate but Ray doesn’t answer right away. He waits long enough for Frank to get impatient.

“And? It’s on Earth- _and_?”

“And that’s all I know,” Ray snaps harshly, the last of his magic healing Frank in an instant. Fast enough to leave with just an edge of pain.

He winces and wraps his arms around his chest protectively, a little hurt by the change in Ray’s voice and the unneeded harshness in how he ended the spell. Frank was just curious. He never gets assignments like this. He should be allowed to ask questions.

“I’m only telling you because I don’t trust this,” Ray admits, letting his hands come to rest on his lap and lowering his head. “You’re never sent on these, you’ve proved your loyalty already. A long time ago.”

Frank flinches at that, even though it’s not accompanied by a too-sharp sting of Ray’s magic. But he’s right. Frank _has_ proven himself to the Devil, in the most absolute way possible.

Why would He need _more_ proof?

“Will I still be able to talk to you?” Frank finds himself asking hopefully, glancing up to his best friend.

Ray sighs again and brushes a curl behind his ear as he thinks. He won’t meet Frank’s eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll _try_ but I have no clue what you’ll be doing up there. And don’t expect me to just swoop in and save your ass if you manage to find trouble,” he warns, a playful smile finally pulling at his lips.

“Me?” Frank asks with a smirk of his own. “Trouble? _Never_.”

Ray glares at him and rolls his eyes. The oven timer goes off just then, loud and shrill. They go downstairs for dinner together and Frank wonders briefly when he’ll be able to eat with Ray again. But he shakes that thought from his head as they dig into the food.

No assignment can take away what he has here. 

Not if he has any say in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, everyone, thoughts?


	2. All the Wounds that are Ever Gonna Scar Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *alcoholism  
> *abuse  
> *burns  
> *near panic attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone!  
> Hope you're all doing well, staying healthy and finding things to take your mind off of all the stuff that's going on right now. 
> 
> A very huge thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here on tumblr for all of her help and support for this fic! I couldn't do this without her!
> 
> *chapter title is from Ghost of You by My Chem*

Gerard has Friday off. 

Now, normally, he wouldn’t say that that was a bad thing. Far from it, really. 

The few days where he _doesn’t_ have to wake up crazy early and deal with bitchy customers all day are something Gerard genuinely looks forward to. He does his best to enjoy those days, since he rarely has the energy to do anything _actually_ fun on the days he has to work. 

Friday through Sunday are the days where he packs his bag with all of his favorite things and just… wanders. Around the city. Sitting beneath trees in the park by the school for _hours_. He’ll go to the library. Sit there for hours, just quietly reading or drawing. Sometimes he just listens to music when the effort it’d take to do anything else proves to be too much.

But, on Friday's, Gerard has actual plans. Every Friday he and Mikey plant themselves on the couch for the entire day and do absolutely nothing. It’s their way to de-stress from the week. Gerard tries to not stress over work and Mikey doesn’t check his school email. 

They ignore the outside world and just watch movies or binge TV shows they’ve seen a trillion times. It’s unspoken that they order take out too.

There’s a small, family owned Italian place down the street that does deliveries. That’s a popular choice for movie nights. So is the Dominos two streets down. Because yeah capitalism sucks, but their pizzas aren’t too bad. (Gerard always makes sure to tip the delivery person a little extra because he knows it’s not their fault corporate Dominos is a piece of shit).

Movie night is a _tradition_ for him and Mikey. They’ve been doing it since they were little, back when it was just curling up on the couch to watch evening cartoons while their mom cooked dinner. Since then, it’s grown just like they have.

The cartoons stay, because _yes_. But there are certain nights where they just binge every horror movie they own. Or they watch that one weird Bigfoot documentary neither of them remember buying. There was a time when they’d share beers while they lounged on the couch, getting pleasantly drunk until they both fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. Ironically, the drinking has stopped now that they’ve gotten older. 

Gerard has no desire to touch even a drop of alcohol ever again, not when he can still smell the stench of it wafting off of _him_. And Mikey respects that. He knows Mikey drinks but it’s never in front of him, and he’s always perfectly sober whenever he’s with Gerard.

But, _God_ , Gerard has to admit that he had missed this. Missed the anticipation leading up to it. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Or something along those lines. But, movie nights are the one thing he actually remembers _missing_ , before he had to move back home. He missed Mikey. Missed just having someone to talk to who _got_ it. Who understood his weird ramblings about ghosts at 3am. Who wouldn’t judge him for scarfing down a whole pizza while they watched Buffy because Mikey would be doing the same. 

The first week after he moved back home, it felt like things would never be the same again. That he’d never have that normalcy again. Like he’d fucked up everything so badly that everyone was going to be on eggshells around him for the rest of his life. And while that is sort of true still, that first Friday back home Mikey had knocked on his basement door right at 5pm. Gerard had grunted a come in, seeing as the door wasn’t exactly locked, expecting Mikey to just be checking in on him like he’d been doing like clockwork for the past week. But, to Gerard’s surprise, Mikey had instead brought takeout and their favorite movies and plopped down on his bed just like nothing had changed. Like Gerard wasn’t still too sick to go upstairs on his own.

Gerard hadn’t been able to eat any of the food but, as awkward as it was, just sitting there and watching the first Iron Man play quietly on the screen was something that he _needed_. Desperately. It made everything feel real, in the best and _worst_ possible way.

Because if it _was_ real, if everything he’d just been through was real. Then he really _had_ just stumbled home on blind luck after he had been told by his fiancé that he was too much to deal with. And Gerard didn’t- _still_ doesn’t- quite know what to do with that. With the fact that he was abused. That that is a factual statement, that it’s something that happened to _him_. 

He’d known it while it was happening of course, he wasn’t _that_ stupid, but it just never clicked until that first movie night he had back home.

As for the good reason this all feels more real, well it’s because Gerard _did_ come out on the other side of it. He’s alive. He has his brother, their mom. He has a life now and every day it feels like he’s taking another small, baby step in leaving that part of his life behind. Some days it doesn’t feel like a step forward at all, sometimes it feels more like a step backwards. Like he’s one wrong move away from everything going wrong again. Because everything really _did_ go wrong in a blink of an eye.

Lunch dates between classes turned into days without seeing _him_. Turned into offhand comments about how _didn’t those jeans used to fit you?_ And ultimately into bruises that Gerard didn’t even bother covering up because it wasn’t like he was allowed to leave the house, was he?

But, that growth, that distance he has fought tooth and nail to gain from that part of his life, is a victory in itself. He’s not forgotten it exactly, how could he? But it’s more like he’s learning to accept that it happened, that it’s not something he can just wake up and be okay after. 

It’s those baby steps but it’s the bigger ones too. 

Today is one of the bigger steps, the biggest he’s taken yet. 

Because today’s the day Lyn-z is supposed to be coming over for movie night. Which is something that has never happened before. It’s always just been him and Mikey. But Mikey has expressed numerous times, because Gerard kept asking, that he doesn't mind Lyn-z joining them.

And yet, despite how far he feels he’s come, Gerard finds himself so _unbelievably_ stressed about the situation that it’s all he’s been able to think about today. 

He’s aware that some of the stuff running around in his head is completely illogical, like the part of him screaming _what if she got abducted by aliens in her sleep last night??_

Which, yes, is, statistically, very improbable. But, the thought of her getting robbed or mugged is a very possible thing that could have happened. They live in _Jersey_ for fucks sake. People get mugged _constantly_!

Now, typically, if Gerard was freaking out that something bad had happened to Lyn-z he’d just text her. Or ask her once she got to work.

But. Now this is the stress inducing part. Gerard is _off_ today.

He can’t ask her if she was mugged, if she managed to put yet another asshole in the hospital for trying to steal her wallet. Honestly, you’d think those dumb fucks would figure out that Lyn-z is both taller and insanely more strong than they are, and just give up. She currently has at least 4 would-be-muggers that she’s put in the hospital. He doesn’t worry _for_ her necessarily, because she’s badass if you couldn’t tell, but he also _does_ worry at the same time. What if a bunch of muggers gang up on her. What if they have _guns_?

Lyn-z may have a killer right hook, but she’s not bulletproof.

And that’s just _one_ of the _hundreds_ of possibilities running around in his head right now.

What if she’s had to cancel for some other reason and here Gerard is, waiting on nothing. Like an idiot. And, since he isn’t at work today, then how is he going to know if she did have to cancel or something? And yeah, sure, she has a phone and they’ve been texting sporadically over the past day and a half. But what if her phone breaks today? What if that’s the reason she can’t come over? If he’s home for the day then he’ll have no way of knowing until it’s too _late_.

Or _worse_. What if she decided to just stand him up tonight. What if she’s already changed her number and is looking for a new job so she doesn’t have to see him ever again?? Does it even _count_ as being stood up if it’s not even a real date? 

Maybe Gerard has read this whole situation wrong. Maybe she only gave him her number out of pity or something. It makes sense. Hell, he’d struggled to even ask her in the _first_ place, so she probably just said yes to get him to go away.

Oh _shit_. 

What if she thought the gay thing was a _joke_ and thinks this is an _actual_ date and-

“Gee.”

Gerard blinks hard and looks over to Mikey. He’s sitting on the other end of the couch, phone on his lap and xbox controller in hand, eyeing Gerard like he can hear his thoughts.

“You good?”

He nods slowly, which is probably only more suspicious at this point. It’s taking him a while to realize just how far he’d been in his own head. It feels like waking up from a dream. He certainly doesn’t remember anything since he’d sat down here what must have been an hour ago by now. He’s always been called a day dreamer and he can definitely see why his teachers called him that. 

It had felt like he was reliving it, if he’s honest. Like he was back in that smoky, dingy apartment with _him_. But also like he was back in time to the movie night too. He can almost hear the low dialogue of the movie playing in the background.

Mikey’s eyebrows raise, telling Gerard that there’s no way he’s getting out of telling him what’s on his mind. Gerard’s lucky he didn’t end up in a panic attack, actually. Normally letting his head wonder like that would be a very, very bad idea.

“Then why are you gripping that pencil so hard it’s about to snap in two?”

Gerard looks down and, sure enough, his hand is white from the literal death grip he has on the pencil. He unclinches his fist slowly, wincing at the ache left behind.

He notices his sketchbook, lying haphazardly on his lap and the beginnings of what he was working on staring up at him, abandoned the second he let his mind drift. Mikey pauses his game without a word and there’s a shuffle as he shifts down so that his legs poke Gerard’s. 

“Spill,” is all Mikey says.

Mikey’s feet are cold against the outside of his thigh and he has half a mind to push him away. But Gerard just sighs. The contact _is_ kind of nice. Means he has all of Mikey’s attention. 

He knows better than to tell Mikey he was thinking about _him_. But, at least, he can tell him about his anxieties over Lyn-z. Those aren’t something that would end in a family meeting or a check of his phone. (Which is something they somehow don’t realize he’s caught onto)

He hesitates, wondering how on earth he’s going to word this without making Mikey worry even more. Gerard already _knows_ that this going to sound stupid out loud- even though it was plenty stupid when it was only in his head. 

“What do you think the chances are that Lyn-z got a new phone and changed her number?” he mumbles, chancing a glance over to his brother to gauge his reaction.

Mikey frowns. “Low. Why, has she not answered your texts?”

“Well I...”

The thing is, she _has_. All except for the one he sent an hour ago, asking if they were still on for tonight. He’d even sent one of those happy emojis along with it- ‘cause that’s a thing people do, right?

“Mostly,” Gerard says under his breath, fiddling with the pencil in favor of actually looking at Mikey right now.

“Gee, what ‘d you mean _mostly_?”

“I texted her this morning…” Gerard begins softly. It sounds so dumb now that he’s saying it but he can’t seem to stop the anxious thoughts that spill out. “And she hasn’t answered and maybe she knew today was my day off so she knew she could get a new phone and number without me knowing. She could probably be in another _country_ by tomorrow, Mikes!”

Mikey’s foot presses hard into Gerard’s thigh, not quite a kick but enough to draw him out of his ramblings. He doesn’t look up though. Embarrassed at how irrational he’s being, at how worked up he is over nothing.

“She’s at work right now,” Mikey says calmly. “You’re off, so she has morning shift, right?”

Oh. 

Fucking _hell_. Gerard is such an idiot. 

Fuck. He honestly wouldn’t even _blame_ Lyn-z for not showing up at this point. Because he’d seriously been _mid-panic_ over something that wasn’t even _wrong_. 

Christ, he’s a mess.

“Right,” Gerard admits weakly, feeling horrible now for bothering Mikey over absolutely fucking _nothing_.

Mikey doesn’t say anything else after that, but he shifts so his feet are in Gerard’s lap and shares some of his cheetos before going back to his game. So Gerard knows they’re alright and that Mikey’s not upset with him or anything. 

Eventually, Gerard is able to get lost in his sketch again. It’s easy enough, when he’s not letting his anxiety back him into corners. Especially when he’s as excited as he is for the project he’s working on.

You see, this year for Halloween, Mikey’s film class is having them do a short, black and white film. It doesn’t necessarily have to be related to the holiday but of course, Mikey’s going for a Dracula sort of vibe. He roped Gerard into it too- though it didn’t take much convincing. Mikey has to do all of the editing and actual camera work but Gerard gets to help with character design, so it’s really a win-win situation. 

As he sketches the outline of a bat in the corner of the page, Gerard thinks about how, now that he’s helping Mikey with this, he kind of wishes he had taken an introductory film class or something when he was in school. At the time, he’d been hyper focused on his own major, too busy to think about anything else but graduation. But, now that he’s working on this project, he’s finding that there’s actually a _lot_ more room for creativity in this sort of thing than he’d originally thought. Helping Mikey so far has been _fun_ and it almost feels like he’s back in college.

Even though the project is still a ways off from being finished, seeing as it’s only the first week of October, Gerard can already see their hard work coming together. He can just _tell_ that it’s going to be cool as hell once they’re finished.

Around lunch, their mom comes in, already dressed for work, even though she doesn’t have to go in for another hour or so. Gerard’s genuinely surprised when she sits down in the armchair beside Mikey.

He glances at her over his sketchbook, trying to figure out what she wants. They don’t really _do_ family time, with the board games and the family bowling trips. For them to do those kinds of things, their dad would have to actually, you know, _acknowledge_ his and Mikey’s existence. And that’s pushing it on a good day.

Mikey curses under his breath and Gerard glances to the TV in time to see the death screen. He snickers at Mikey, who’s still grumbling under his breath as he reloads his last save.

“What game are you playing?” 

Both he and Mikey turn to their mother like she’s lost her mind. Since _when_ does she care about what videogames they’re playing? She hasn’t cared since Gerard was like 13 and he found some weird Japanese anime game at Goodwill, not knowing it was a very _adult_ oriented game. He’s pretty sure _he_ was more traumatized by the experience than his mother was when she walked in.

He jokes that that game is the reason he’s gay. Their mom doesn’t find it funny.

“Skyrim,” Mikey admits distractedly, though he shoots another suspicious glance to their mom.

“Oh. Cool.”

Gerard shrugs to himself. It’s probably just a mom thing, wanting to connect with the younger generation or some shit. So he goes back to the costume design for Mikey’s character in their film. He told Gerard he wanted it to be very traditional in the vampire cliche but was open to some added touches. Essentially a modern day black and white vampire movie, with Mikey acting through a day in the life sort of thing. Which rules out the long, tailored suits and frilly cuffs. Mikey said he wanted something with more casual vibes. So Gerard’s trying to _avoid_ making his costume look like he walked out of a 2003 MySpace page of some 13 year old who wanted to bang a vampire. But, surprisingly, that’s proving to be a bit more difficult than he had originally planned.

“What’re you drawing?” their mother asks out of the blue.

That _really_ gets Gerard’s attention. He looks up at his mom in disbelief. Mikey even secretly pauses his game.

“Uh… vampire shit,” Gerard tells her warily.

Something’s up, he can tell by the way his mother nods her head like she actually knows what “vampire shit” means.

“Mom,” Mikey cuts in, exasperated. “If someone’s dead just tell us and stop the torture.”

Gerard snorts, he can’t help it, but their mom looks mortified.

“That’s not even _funny_ ,” she scolds with a shake of her head.

But come on, it _was_ kinda funny. I mean, why else would their mother try _small talk_ , now of all times?

She sighs and tucks her hair behind her ear, seemingly giving up after she realizes they’ve caught on. Though it does look like she’s trying to tell them something.

“Your father’s leaving for a business trip tonight and I work overnight at the hospital. So,” she pauses and gives them both an unreadable look. “You two have the house to yourselves until tomorrow evening.”

Gerard resists the urge to laugh. Their mom says that like it’s a _bad_ thing. Like they’re two 13 year olds planning on throwing a party or some shit. As if Gerard would be caught _dead_ at a party? He can barely breathe around one person, let alone 20 or more who he doesn’t even _know_.

“Cool,” Mikey says before Gerard can come up with something sarcastic in response. “Good to know.”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal, mom. We’re just gonna watch movies and eat pizza, anyway.” Gerard leaves out the part about how they’re planning on having someone else over. If their mom’s worried about just the two of them, she’d probably _freak_ out about a girl coming over. Even _if_ both of her sons are gay. 

“Okay,” their mom says slowly, like she doesn’t quite believe them. 

“Mom, chill. We’ve stayed home alone before. We’re not _five_.” If she’s upset by Mikey’s sarcasm, she doesn’t show it.

“Okay,” she says again, just as slow. “You two be good, alright?”

They both agree quickly, despite the fact that it feels like Gerard’s back in middle school again. Begging his mom to let him stay up an extra hour.

When the door finally shuts behind their mom, they both look at each other.

“That was weird,” Gerard comments in a loud whisper.

Mikey nods seriously just as Gerard’s phone buzzes in his lap.

“That Linds?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says distractedly. “She says she’s gonna be over right at 4 and for us to not eat all the pizza before she gets here.”

“No promises.”

Gerard giggles but types the message anyway. Instantly she sends an angry looking emoji in return. 

_________________________________________

Frank stumbles and hits the ground hard enough for him to see stars. 

He can hear the portal close behind him, a sharp ringing sound cutting out quickly as his only way home disappears. _Yay_.

He lays on the ground for a moment, catching his breath and cursing out loud at how his stomach twists painfully. Using a portal for the first time sucks absolute _ass_. He’d known that going into this, of course, but that doesn’t make him need to hurl any less. Or make him less pissy about this whole situation.

Portals are fucking _bullshit_ , anyway. Why can’t he just go through the _normal_ way? Up through the stairs and tunnels? Those supposedly come out in a bunch of different places.

Is the place he’s assigned really that hard to get to, or is someone back in Hell laughing at him as he tries to not puke up his dinner?

Frank gets the feeling that it’s the latter. Just because no one really likes him. They’d never do this shit to _Ray_ , now would they?

After a long while and once he’s certain he can move without puking up his guts, Frank stands shakily with a muttered curse. He combs his hair out of his face and scans the area around him, a mix of bitter disinterest and genuine curiosity.

Even though he’s thought about coming to Earth a lot, can definitely see the appeal, it _doesn’t_ mean he’s enjoying the fact that he had no say whatsoever in the matter. He’s doing grunt work, the bullshit that no one else wants to do, and it’s _humiliating_. 

Hasn’t he already suffered _enough_?

Like, he isn’t some evil soul who needs punishment. Hell is just his _home_. He has a job, he has a friend. He’s done nothing wrong to deserve being sent on stupid ass assignments like this one. 

At least, nothing that anyone can prove was _him_. Frank may be impulsive, he may have a conscience despite how hard he tries to hide it, but he’s _not_ stupid. 

And he can practically _hear_ Ray telling him that maybe he won’t be miserable here, that he’s just being a whiny little shit. Ray’s an optimist like that and Frank sorta hates him for how he can always find _something_ to make whatever’s wrong feel not as bad.

But, in all honesty, where he’s landed _is_ kind of pretty. Even Frank can admit that. He blames it on spending too much time with Ray.

He glances around, relieved when it doesn’t make him as dizzy as before. He’s standing in a clearing of some sort and there’s young, half-alive trees surrounding the area. To his right is a small break in the trees, leading down what looks to be a dark trail. 

The wind blows, shaking the trees above him and biting through the few layers he has on. Frank wasn’t really expecting the cold, or the unpleasant chill that’s run through him. But he probably should have, seeing as he’s used to it being much warmer than this.

Also, upon further inspection, he appears to be alone. Which is a good thing. Because if someone _had_ seen him falling through the portal and then proceeding to loudly curse to himself at how stupid this whole thing is, it would probably be a pain in the ass to explain. So, all things considered, things aren’t as bad as they probably _could_ be.

And yet, Frank knows better than to underestimate his situation. Because with the way Ray had acted beforehand, Frank had assumed this assignment was going to be something horrible. Like corrupting little kids or some shit. And while he’s definitely not doing the _worst_ possible job, this isn’t exactly what he would have asked for as an assignment if he had been given the chance. Because, basically, he’s giving a _progress report_ on other demon’s jobs. Which is fucking _bullshit_ in his opinion. Like, what the hell kind of job even _is_ that? Is there no one else who can do this stupid fucking assignment? Was Frank _really_ the only one who they could spare?

He’s bitter. If you couldn’t fucking tell.

He could be home right now, jamming with Ray or something infinitely more entertaining than this bullshit.

But, the truth is, as much as he hates this assignment, he can sort of understand why they might need him to do it. This is possibly going to throw other demons under the bus if Frank finds that they’ve failed an assignment. So, when Ray said this was to prove his loyalty, that’s probably what he meant. And yeah, this is a bit more complicated than he’d originally planned and he’s going to have to get a bit closer to humans than he’s comfortable with, but there’s honestly _worse_ things in the world he could have been assigned to do.

Off hand, a part of him really wants to see if he can call Ray, just to check in. He already misses him, as pathetic as that probably is. But, Frank decides against it. There’s nothing for him to tell Ray yet and he sorta wants to have something really fucking cool to tell him when they do eventually talk. That way it can be _him_ who has the interesting Earth stories for once.

So, to procrastinate a little longer, Frank decides to look around some more. Seeing as he’s never been to Earth and he needs to understand his surroundings before he does something stupid and nearly gets himself killed within an hour of getting here.

The first few steps he takes are weird as his body finishes adjusting from the minor changes it made on his way over. 

He knows without looking that his horns are gone. Well, not _taken_ , just hidden by whatever invisible force makes it so that his powers feel like they’ve been buried miles beneath his skin. Probably God. The _asshole_.

But he gets why it is the way that it is. Humans would freak if they saw his horns, if they saw him using magic. They’re fragile little things and such a sight would probably drive a few of them nuts. Or make them atheists. And God can’t have _that_ , now can he?

When he looks around again, Frank realizes that the place he’s landed in isn’t as secluded as he thought. He can see the tops of a few buildings rising above the trees to his right, grey and bland. Distantly, he can hear the sound of vehicles. But the moon is bright and high in the sky, brighter than Frank expected it to be.

Ray had told him to look up once he got here and Frank understands now why he said it.

The sky is _huge_. It goes on for forever, filled with nothing but darkness and tiny, shining stars that are light years away. The moon is almost full and with so little clouds, it lights up the clearing that Frank is standing in.

He wonders if the daytime is just as pretty. 

For all the shit that’s wrong with the Earth, at least it’s not all bad. It’s leagues better than the smogy skies in Hell anyway. 

But, even so, Frank doesn’t want to stay here longer than he has to. It might look peaceful and pretty at first, but he knows there’s probably humans somewhere close by. Probably destroying something or hurting one another. They may look harmless and innocent at first, but humans are the one thing Frank can’t stand. 

He feels sorta bad for the few that _are_ actually good, but those are few and far between. The majority are selfish, greedy creatures. Hell wouldn’t be as big or as powerful as it is, if it weren’t for the sheer number of evil people in the world.

With a sigh, Frank tears his eyes away from the sky as his arm begins to burn. This is how he’s getting his orders, small burns into the top of his arm that say which human to investigate. It’s a dull pain, one he barely even registers. Slowly, more so than normal, it’s already beginning to heal.

 _James Andrews, 25. New Jersey_.

Simple enough, Frank thinks with a shrug. He just has to make sure they dropped him off in the right corner of the world first and then he can go ahead and start this stupid assignment. The faster he gets this done, the sooner he can go home. His fingers already itch for his guitar.

Frank walks across the clearing and through the thin line of trees. He finds himself on a quiet street, standing on a well-worn sidewalk. A few people are out, despite how late it is. There’s a kid on a skateboard, blasting something loud through the headphones snug on their head. A couple walking hand in hand on the other side of the street, whispering to each other and giggling occasionally. Frank feels a bit sick at the sight.

He starts walking down the sidewalk, not really sure what he’s looking for if he’s honest.

He’d be able to sense it if the person he’s supposed to find is nearby. But so far, he has nothing. So, he walks and tries to ignore how the cold feels like it’s seeping into his bones.

_____________________________________________________

The day passes quickly.

Gerard keeps himself busy, simply so he doesn’t have the time to stress over the whole Lyn-z situation. 

He finishes up the first drafts of the costume designs for Mikey’s film, takes an actual shower, and even does the dishes for his mom. By three, he’s bored enough for Mikey to convince him to play a few rounds of Mario Kart.

Gerard’s not big on gaming, he just doesn’t have the attention span for it, but he can appreciate the art in most games. Like Skyrim for example. He loves to watch Mikey play it because it’s so goddamn beautiful. But Mario Kart? _That_ game can die in hell.

Because Mikey always wins. Always. Even when he tries to _let_ Gerard win. 

It’s ridiculous.

But, Gerard is bored and he has nothing better to do, so he agrees to a few rounds. Better than working himself into an anxiety attack over having a friend over anyway, right?

Mikey plops down on the couch beside him, a new bag of cheetos in hand. He leans over to grab the remote from the coffee table and Gerard snickers as he nearly falls forward.

“Fuck off,” Mikey tells him, rolling his eyes.

As he takes a handful of cheetos, he makes a _mmph?_ sound, which means he’s asking Gerard if he wants some. Gladly, he takes a couple and plops them in his mouth quickly. Mikey’s already loading up the game and he isn’t above starting the race before Gerard is ready. The little shit.

“If you cheat this time I am not afraid to murder you and hide you in a hole somewhere,” Gerard tells him seriously, even though it earns him a cheeto to the forehead.

Finally, after Mikey manages to eat like 10 cheetos in one bite, they start the race.

Somehow, by some fucking miracle, Gerard wins the first round. Mikey looks just as surprised, though he does offer him a celebratory fist bump. Which Gerard feels proud of because he’s almost positive Mikey didn’t just let him win that time.

As the second track loads up, Gerard leans over and steals some of the cheetos from the bag in Mikey’s lap. He gets a half-hearted glare in return but the race is starting before Mikey has the chance to bitch.

Gerard wins the next one too, which is… _suspicious_ , if he’s honest. Maybe Mikey _is_ letting him win?

Like, Gerard has _no_ hand-eye coordination when it comes to videogames. Drawing? He has it for days. But anything other than that is a big fat zero. He trips over thin air on a daily basis and the nice, purple bruise on his hip bone from the other morning is further proof that Gerard has no coordination whatsoever. So, the fact that he’s won two out of two races? _Infinitely_ suspicious.

But, the thing is, as the next race starts, Mikey doesn’t _look_ like he’s letting him win. He’s squinting at the tv, leaning on the edge of his seat. Concentrating so hard he doesn’t even reach for more cheetos. He throws every power up he gets at Gerard’s character. 

And, still, Gerard crosses the finish line first.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Mikey curses, throwing himself dramatically back against the couch and raising his arms in defeat.

Gerard laughs and does a little victory dance before stealing more of Mikey’s cheetos. Those shits are _addicting_. 

“When did you suddenly get good?” Mikey asks incredulously, but there’s a smirk worming it’s way onto his face.

Gerard just shrugs. “Luck?”

He’s saved from whatever stupid response Mikey would have had by a knock on the door. Instantly his stomach drops as he realizes that that must be Lyn-z. 

And fuck. He’s in his pajamas at _four_ in the afternoon and they haven't even picked which movies they’re going to watch tonight yet!

Shit. He had wanted to make this as close to a normal movie night as possible but he should at least have decent, normal people clothes on, right? She’s gonna think he’s weird as hell for wearing CatWoman pajama pants. And they’re not even _clean_. He put these on after work yesterday and put them _back_ on after his shower earlier.

Fuck. What if they stink or they have a huge stain on them or something or- 

“Dude,” Mikey mumbles, bumping his shoulder with Gerard’s. 

Gerard frowns down at his hands. He can’t answer Mikey.

He’s not ready for this. That’s what this all boils down to. The growing ache in his chest and how his head is spinning at the thought of how many ways this could go wrong. 

Despite how slowly the day has passed, now that Lyn-z is here, Gerard’s _not_ ready.

In fact, he feels moments away from a panic attack. Can already feel his chest getting even tighter, how his heartbeat is slowly getting louder. His head feels light and he can barely feel Mikey’s shoulder against his.

 _Fuck_. 

He _really_ didn’t think this through.

Because now Lyn-z knows where he lives. And she’ll know that he’s a bum who takes a shower and changes back into pajamas. That he’s done literally _nothing_ today. And-

“Gee, seriously,” Mikey puts his hand on Gerard’s arm, startling him out of it a bit more. “If you don’t think you can do this, we can reschedule. No harm done.”

He thinks on that for a second. How Mikey would just go to the door and tell Lyn-z to go home…

How disappointed she’d probably be. Because she’d come all this way after work. Just for Gerard to be even _more_ of a shut in than normal. 

“Alright. Sit here,” Mikey tells him gently when Gerard doesn’t answer in time. “I’ll let her know we had to reschedule.”

“No!”

He lunges for Mikey’s arm, pulling him back down onto the couch. The knocking has stopped and Lyn-z probably just heard him shout but-

But he _does_ still want to hang out with her.

“I can-” Gerard clears his throat and tries to make his voice sound like he’s not two seconds from a freak out. “It’s okay. I just- I lost track of time.”

Mikey squints and stares at him, clearly not believing his half truth. But Gerard knows that he _has_ to do this. He has to do this stuff again eventually. And what better way than to ease into it by having Mikey here too?

He can _do_ this. It’s just a movie night.

“You’re _sure_?” Mikey asks slowly. “Because she’ll totally understand if you’re not up to it today.”

 _Would_ she though? 

Or would they have to give her a _reason_ why Gerard’s panicking over something as stupid as this? That thought is worse than his anxiety over letting Mikey open the door.

“ ‘m sure,” he whispers, suddenly feeling bad for scaring Mikey so much. Sorry for this whole situation. “I’m sorry.”

God why can’t he be normal for five fucking seconds? Literally _everyone_ else has friends over. All the time. Hell, some people give their friends’ the keys so they can let themselves in. But here Gerard is freaking the fuck out over a friend _knocking_ on his door.

Mikey sighs and squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, Gee,” he says softly, all teasing from earlier long gone. “So, do you want me to let her in, or reschedule.”

“Let her in?” He suggests under his breath before he can overthink it again.

“ _‘course_ Gee.”

Gerard watches, genuinely too scared to move, as Mikey stands and goes to the front door. He sits there as Mikey says hello to Lyn-z and motions her inside. 

The front door closes behind her softly and she spots Gerard instantly.

“Hey Gee,” Lyn-z says brightly, setting her bag by the door. 

It’s bigger than a normal purse and sorta looks like the kind that people take with them to the beach. He can even spot what might be a blanket spilling out of the top.

As he manages to mumble a hello, Gerard notices that she’s changed out of her work clothes already. She’s not in pajamas but the oversized hoodie and sweatpants are a close alternative. She hasn’t taken off her heels but Gerard suspects she sleeps in those things, so he doesn’t worry about his own Star Wars socks that much in comparison. It’s stupid but just knowing that he’s not the only one dressed comfortably makes the lingering panic subside a bit.

“If you two got started without me I’m gonna be _pissed_ ,” she tells them loudly, pointing at the tv still displaying the game menu.

Mikey snorts and ducks his head as she chucks a pillow from the couch at him. 

And just like that, everything settles. No awkward introductions. Nothing strange about Gerard sitting here in his pjs. Just three friends getting ready for a movie night.

Lyn-z plops down on the couch beside Gerard and she smiles at him again while Mikey starts rummaging around for movies to watch.

“How was work?” Gerard asks quietly, berating himself instantly for asking such a stupid question.

She probably doesn’t want to talk about work, seeing as that’s basically all the two of them have talked about before and-

“Pretty boring, had that same old lady tell me off about my tatts though.”

Gerard giggles and leans forward to put his controller on the coffee table. 

“She needs to get a job,” he says with a chuckle.

“Okay!” Mikey says animatedly, jumping up with an arm full of DVD’s. Or well, animated for _him_ anyway. His face is blank but his voice betrays his excitement. “We got options.”

Lyn-z makes a _go on_ gesture and Mikey spreads the movies out on the table.

“We got, Ghostbusters. All the Paranormal Activity’s. Uh…” he glances down again. “Basically every Disney movie since 2000 and all the Terminator movies.”

Gerard stays quiet. He’s seen all of those movies literally hundreds of times, plus the couple hundred more that are on the shelf that Mikey _didn’t_ grab. 

He just silently hopes Lyn-z picks the Disney movies. 

_______________________________________

Lyn-z stays up with them well into the morning. 

She _did_ end up deciding on the Disney movies, her reasoning being that you can’t really go wrong with watching Moana or Frozen. And Gerard was a hundred percent okay with that. They’re _classics_ , okay?

And, much to Gerard’s surprise, Lyn-z knew the words to every movie that they watched. It was amazing. She even sang along with almost every song, dramatic gestures and all. Gerard _would_ have sang along too, mainly to annoy Mikey because it’s so fun, but he was too nervous. He’s not exactly a singer and he gets carried away way too easily. So he just stayed quiet and let Lyn-z do her thing.

Despite that though, he really did have a fun time. It’s been so long since he’s had this, this sort of peaceful normalcy. He never realized how much he’d missed just hanging out with a friend until now, until he saw how much fun it could be. 

He tries to be as quiet as he can as he walks Lyn-z to the door. There’s birds beginning to chirp outside and the sleepless night is beginning to catch up with him. But that’s alright. Gerard is more relaxed, more _happy_ , than he remembers being in a long time.

When Lyn-z trips and stumbles in the near darkness, they both try to hide their laughter so it won’t wake Mikey. He’s snoring softly on the couch after he conked out halfway through their last movie. 

“Shh,” Lyn-z whispers, barely containing her laughter.

Gerard hands her the bag that she brought and watches quietly as she stuffs the blanket and deck of cards back inside. He smiles a little to himself at that. How he’d gotten out of the game three turns in, but Mikey and Lyn-z battled it out for the better part of an hour. Until, at last, Mikey won. He’d done a victory lap around the house, blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape, but made up for it by paying for their second round of takeout. 

Lyn-z slugs the bag up onto her shoulder with a grunt and pats down her pockets. She lifts her car keys victoriously and lets them dangle off her finger. 

Gerard’s smile falls. 

He knows that it’s selfish, that it’s dumb. But he kinda doesn’t want her to leave. 

He hasn’t had this much fun in… in _years_. He hasn’t hung out with someone outside of his family in so long he’d forgotten how nice it is to just goof around with a friend until ass- o’clock in the morning.

“I had fun,” he whispers lamely, using everything in him to not show that he’s disappointed now that she has to leave.

“Me too. I thought for sure Mikey was gonna explode when I started singing along.”

Gerard laughs softly. Mikey _did_ look annoyed. But in the good sort of way. In the, _why do I love these two idiots,_ sort of way. 

“He sings along when it’s just us,” Gerard blurts.

He flinches, instantly feeling horrible for outing his brother on something like that. Mikey’s a lot more shy than people think and it’s pretty cruel of Gerard to just throw something he’s self conscious about out in the open like this. Especially since Mikey’s asleep and can’t defend himself.

“Oh yeah, I know.”

Gerard frowns and looks up at Lyn-z. She’s already put her heels back on so now she stands a good foot taller than him. Distantly, he wonders if she might have a pair that’d fit him. He hasn’t worn heels in so long.

“You know?” he asks slowly.

He chances a look behind him. Mikey’s still sprawled out on the couch, snoring and ruining one of their mom’s good pillows with his drool.

“He was mouthing the words the whole time and I’m not _that_ oblivious.”

That lifts some of the guilt off of him and Gerard can feel his easy smile returning. Lyn-z really is someone special. In that platonic soulmate sort of way.

He’s really glad he met her.

“But I won’t tell a soul if you won’t,” she whispers conspiratorially.

Gerard nods and crosses his heart like he’s back in middle school. 

“Okay, I gotta go now or I’ll end up zonked out on your couch too,” Lyn-z says with a giggle. “See you at work today?”

He nods and they say goodbye one more time, and she gives him a strong hug- like she knows that he doesn’t want her to leave- and then he’s closing the door behind her. Gerard’s smile lingers as he meanders back over to the couch.

It’s Saturday, so his manager is opening today.Which means he doesn’t have to be at work until eleven. Maybe he’ll have time for a quick nap?

But, then again, his sketchbook is calling him. Watching Mother Gothel turn into that white old hag brought up some new ideas for Mikey’s film. 

________________________________________________

Frank ends up finding James Andrews pretty easily.

He lives in a small home in a decent neighborhood. He has a fenced yard where Frank can see a large dog house carefully built in one corner. There’s dog toys scattered about the yard, in various stages of destruction. Some are nothing more than scraps at this point.

His house has decorations up too. Which is what has made Frank stop short of just barging in.

He knows humans celebrate holidays and things, Ray’s even told him about a few of them, but this is just… strange. There’s weird, purple, orange, and black lights on strings that are strung up around the railing of the porch. On the steps, there’s a large orange _thing_. Frank isn’t sure what it is but it doesn’t _look_ like it’s capable of hurting him or anything. Maybe.

Is this some sort of superstition? To place odd things on your entryway to ward off evil beings?

If it is, Frank has to admit. It’s sorta working.

He doesn’t really want to go up the steps now. What if it comes to life once he gets close? What if it tries to attack him? 

There’s no way he could fight it off without alerting the human who lives here. And maybe that’s the point?

Fuck. Frank isn’t sure. But he has to check on this house. A demon was assigned to this man and it’s Frank’s job to make sure that he’s been properly corrupted.

He drags his magic up to the surface, painfully slow, and steels himself with a sharp breath. 

Carefully, he takes one step forward. The strange orange thing doesn’t move, or make any indication that it’s seen him. 

So he takes another. Still, nothing. 

Frowning, Frank steps closer a bit faster this time. The thing doesn’t move.

He puts his foot on the first step, right next to the thing. Nothing happens.

Huffing out a laugh at how stupid he’s being, Frank hurries up the next two steps. But he pauses at the door.

What is he supposed to do now? Just knock and ask the guy if he’s had any evil thoughts lately?

Well… he _could_ just let himself in. Slipping into his non-solid form shouldn’t be _that_ hard on Earth, right?

And besides, how _else_ is he supposed to do this?

Frank nods to himself and lets his physical form fade away. It’s something he’s had loads of practice at but still absolutely loathes to do. 

Because he never feels quite right like this. He’s always felt a bit too thin, too stretched out. It’s not exactly pleasant, to say the least.

Even so, he slips through the door without much effort and reincorporates a second later. He’d rather not stay in that form for any longer than he has to, thank you very much. 

Thankfully, aside from a slightly stronger than usual head rush, he seems to be fine. Frank shakes out his hands, getting rid of the residual tingles in his fingers, and steps forward into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Frank's finally on Earth doing demon-y things. We now know a bit more about Gee's past. And they're both completely unaware of each other's existence. Good times.  
> Let me know what you guys think?


	3. Did you come to stare or wash away the blood?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * homophobic slurs  
> * blood/ violence  
> * panic attacks  
> * anxiety  
> *brief suicidal thoughts/ memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I hope you're all doing well this week!  
> Frank's new music video made me even more gay. it was great. 10/10.  
> Also, please heed the tags for this chapter in the summary above because there's a few possibly triggering scenes.  
> A very big thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for her help beta-ing this and for all of her support!!  
> Enjoy guys!!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Desert Song by My Chem*

Frank sits with his back against a tree, grumbling to himself as he relays what he found out about the first person for his assignment. The demon he’s talking to sounds unbelievably disinterested and if Frank wasn’t on Earth he’d probably go off on him for being such a dick. It’s not like Frank is having the time of his life here, either.

But he can’t just deck the guy. Mostly because they’re just talking through their heads and if Frank says something the other demon could tell his higher ups. And he wouldn’t want _that_ now would he?

Honestly though, Frank is just pissy because he’d nearly gotten caught and it’s left him more frazzled than he’d like to admit. 

Everything had been going fine in the beginning. He had hid and watched the man for a few hours, just like he was supposed to. James didn’t notice his presence in the corner and continued working well into the early hours of the morning.

Frank didn’t pick up on much influence from Hell in the guy until right at sunrise. James had gotten a call and once he looked at the screen, his face had twisted into such a scowl that it actually unnerved Frank a bit.

When James had answered, Frank was able to hear a meek voice on the other end. An employee explaining that they couldn’t make it into work that day. Their mom was sick or something.

James had gone off on them and ultimately fired them before all but slamming his phone back on the table.

Anger was the supposed influence and Frank had witnessed it first hand.

He left quickly after that, backing up slowly into the corridor leading to the front door. But he was almost halfway corporal at that point, a product of spending too much time in his other form, and he ended up tripping. James’ head whipped in his direction so fast that Frank was certain he’d seen him.

For some reason, Frank was _afraid_ of this man. He hardly breathed during the long fifteen seconds it took James to shake his head and leave the room.

Frank had rushed out of there as quickly as he could, stumbling and fading in and out of his corporal state in his panic. He hadn’t stopped until he found this little line of trees and all but collapsed down against one.

Once he had stopped panicking, he called the demon he’s reporting to and relayed what he found. But he’s still shaking when he ends the conversation. 

He’s not sure why the guy affected him this much, why he’s so afraid of just a simple human.

Maybe it was how _angry_ he looked. Maybe it was the unmistakable _evil_ in the way he’d acted. 

Frank lives in Hell, he should be used to people and demons who are just simply _evil_. Fuck knows that there’s plenty of demons like that.

But he’s not used to it. He hates how badly this person has affected him but this isn’t new.

He’s just used to Ray being there to comfort him afterwards. Or to punch the asshole for saying shit about Frank that isn’t fucking _true_. The only times Frank has seen Ray get into fights is over him. Because he’s different and other demons think he’s easy prey. They learn the hard way that just because Ray’s quiet, doesn’t mean he’s not above ripping them a new one.

And on the odd occasion that Ray isn’t there, Frank can normally pull himself together and punch the motherfucker before they can realize how badly they've scared him.

But that was different. Ray wasn’t there. If Frank had gotten caught there’s no telling what would have happened. Would the Andrews guy have even cared enough to figure out he was a demon before he killed him? Unlikely.

It’s that thought, that fear, that keeps Frank planted to the tree he’s leaning against. It’s not until the sun reaches its highest point and his stomach grumbles that Frank even thinks of moving.

He stands slowly, paranoid enough to glance around and make sure no-one has noticed him. And then he starts walking, not stopping until he gets to the end of the street and turns down a mirror image neighborhood. Breathing heavily and scolding himself for being so afraid over just one human, Frank purposely ignores when his arm starts to burn.

He doesn’t _want_ to start on the next person of his assignment yet. He literally _just_ finished this one. Can’t he have a fucking _break_? For ten minutes. That’s all he wants.

The sidewalk slowly gets more populated the longer he walks. By the time he’s stepping onto a wider, slightly newer sidewalk he realizes he’s wandered his way downtown. There’s people mostly everywhere now. Walking in small groups, laughing. A lot of people have headphones on, or are absorbed in conversations.

Frank glances around as he walks, too caught up in all the strange human things to even begin to worry about someone realizing he’s clearly out of place. 

There are leaves littered about on the sidewalk, soggy from rain he doesn’t remember the night before. The air isn’t quite cold but the occasional burst of wind reminds Frank of the few layers he has on.

The trees here are barely alive too, just like the ones in the small forest he was in last night. He can hardly tell the grass from the dirt in the few places between buildings that aren’t full of more pavement or people. 

Ray told him humans have evolved to survive anywhere, that they move to new places and make them their own. The way he worded it made it actually sound sort of nice. But, as Frank steps in something that he doesn’t even _want_ to know what it is, he realizes that humans making things their “own” simply means they destroy it. Corrupt it.

A car drives past, the driver’s arm hung lazily out the window. Frank coughs as the smell of gasoline and cigarettes bombards his senses.

It makes his stomach churn and he almost, almost, wishes he was back in Hell. At least brimstone and sulfur was something you could get _used_ to smelling all the time.

Frank ducks his head, once he finally stops coughing, and ignores the low burning sensation on his arm. The person he’s supposed to find is close but he’s walking in the opposite direction.

He doesn’t care. If anyone asks, he just got lost in the weird layout of the stupid sidewalks these humans seem to love so damn much.

There’s so many people out now that Frank nearly bumps into someone every few steps. Most people ignore him, just push their way past and carry on with their day. Others glare at him like he’s the sole person responsible for all of their bad luck. 

Though, Frank does his best to ignore everyone. He’s never liked humans, never particularly cared for their discomfort either. So if they’re bothered by him walking down the sidewalk, he really couldn't care less.

Just as he turns down another street, just as run down as the first, Frank smells it. It’s not the gasoline smell and it’s far from the stink of cigarettes. It smells like coffee. Strong, probably even warm, coffee.

Frank has been addicted to the stuff ever since Ray introduced him to it. The caffeine doesn’t really wake him up or anything but he’s addicted to it anyway. Something about the taste and the smell just makes it his favorite thing in the world.

It makes him a little homesick, if he’s completely honest with himself. Homesick for _Ray_. For his house. His guitar.

He shakes those thoughts off quickly, though. He can’t afford to let himself get distracted. If he messes this up well… he’s not sure what his punishment would be. But it certainly wouldn’t be _pleasant_ , now would it?

The smell starts to get stronger and before Frank knows it, his nose has led him to a door.

Or, well not just a door. A shop. 

A small shop tucked between a barber’s and a florist’s. The windows begin just past his knees and go a good foot or so taller than him. They’re weirdly painted with little cartoon foods but he can just barely make out the inside of the shop through them. 

There’s about 10 tables neatly lining the right wall and the one with the windows. The back wall has a small counter that holds a register and a display case full of tiny treats that Frank can’t quite see the details of. There’s a person behind the counter and Frank watches them turn around with a paper bag and cup. To the person’s left is a small swinging door that looks like it leads into a kitchen.

Frank can’t seem to look away. 

Something is gluing his feet to the sidewalk. Stopping him from turning around. Pulling him closer to this small, random little shop.

He doesn’t know why this is important, or why his gut is telling him to go inside. But his feet move on their own accord and before he knows it, he’s queuing up at the back of the line. 

Inside, the smell of coffee is even stronger. It’s enough to where he’s certain his clothes are going to carry the scent.

He glances towards the tables to his right, watching as someone in a suit bites into a small cake-thing. There’s someone curled up in a booth in the corner. They have a laptop and a fuck ton of books spread out on the table. There’s a coffee cup clutched in their hand like a lifeline.

“Next customer?”

Frank jerks his head towards the register. But the person behind the counter was just talking to the person in front of him. Frank doesn’t pay attention as the person orders, too busy trying to figure out how _he’s_ supposed to order coffee. 

Does he just ask? 

Or is there a proper way to say it that he doesn’t know?

When he gets coffee in Hell, it’s just from the store down the street. No one makes it for him. He has to do that himself. And he certainly doesn’t talk to whatever damned soul is behind the cash register. It’s simply a human thing that has been sort of adopted by the people in Hell. So, maybe something got lost in translation?

The person in front of Frank laughs suddenly, loud and obnoxious. Frank almost starts laughing too, thinking maybe that’s a part of ordering his coffee.

But then, the person in front of him shifts and Frank gets a good view of the person behind the counter.

Their eyes are wide, like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Then, right in front of him, their eyes start to fill with tears. They look horrified. Terrified. 

“What?” the person in front of Frank asks, clearly amused.

“I-”

“Listen, princess, lose the makeup and you wouldn’t look like such a fag. That’s all ‘m sayin’. No need to cry about it.”

The person behind the counter shrinks down on themself even more and their hand shakes as they give the person the bag and coffee. The person in front of him, who Frank is now going to call Asshole, laughs again before turning and leaving the store.

Frank steps up to the counter, seeing as he’s now next in line. But the person behind the counter just looks so close to tears that they don’t even look up.

Frank’s not sure what he’s supposed to do in this sort of situation. The person is clearly upset. And they clearly just got insulted, even though Frank’s not really sure what Asshole was actually saying.

Something about makeup?

But makeup isn’t a bad thing, right?

Frank knows plenty of people in Hell who wear it. Himself included sometimes. 

He glances up to the person behind the counter. They still haven't noticed him but there doesn’t appear to be anyone behind him in line, so Frank lets himself take a moment to look them over. Just to figure out what’s wrong.

They have long, dirty looking black hair. Though, the roots are a bright shade of teal. That’s the only color on them though. The jacket they’re wearing is dark and clearly a size or two too big. Their pants, from what he can see from behind the counter, are dark as well.

They’re so pale that it’s hard for Frank to miss the dark streak of eyeliner lining their eyes. 

He wonders why Asshole was mean to them over something so small. But then he stops himself. 

_Humans_. That’s why. They’re horrible to each other for no reason and the person behind this counter has almost certainly done something horrible to another human before too. He shouldn’t be sympathetic to them, he should be checking his arm and making sure that Asshole wasn’t the name of the person he has to report on next.

But then the person behind the counter sniffs, like they’re trying desperately to keep it together, and glances up. He can see the panic in their eyes when they see him, when they realize he’s seen what just happened.

“Oh. um- I- I’m sorry,” they say quickly, rubbing at their eyes hurriedly. “How- how can I help you?”

It’d be convincing if their voice didn’t shake. If Frank couldn’t still see the tears in their eyes. Maybe this person is one of the good ones? One of the few humans who aren’t cruel or evil. It’s possible…

“Are you alright?” Frank asks slowly.

It’s taking him off guard. That he cares enough to ask. That he actually cares that this person looks so heartbroken right now. Because he shouldn’t _be_ worried over this person. This is like the exact _opposite_ of his assignment.

But he can’t just walk away. There’s _something_ about this person, about the way they look so uncertain right now. Like they’re waiting on Frank to say something cruel as well. It stops him from leaving, from walking away from this human like he knows that he should.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Do you know what you’d like to order?”

Their voice is a little stronger now but Frank can see them worrying the fabric of their sleeve between their fingers. How their eyes are red and they just look like they’re seconds away from falling apart. Whatever Asshole said to them must have been really bad to warrant a reaction like this. 

But if it was that bad, _why_ didn’t anyone else in the shop say anything or stand up for them?

Humans are horrible if they would let something like that happen without batting an eye. Frank’s faith in humanity dwindles further, especially as he watches the person behind the counter wipe their eyes again.

“That guy was an asshole,” Frank finds himself saying out of nowhere. “Don’t let what he said get to you.”

Fuck. This is the opposite of not caring about the situation. 

Shit. Too late. He can’t take it back now.

Not that he wants to. Not when the person behind the counter laughs wetly and wipes their eyes again. There’s a tiny spark of hope that ignites in their eyes, burning away some of the sadness that’d been so overwhelming a moment before.

Asshole was making fun of their makeup, Frank is assuming. So… maybe complementing it would make the person feel better?

“I like the eyeliner, by the way. It really makes your eyes look pretty.”

Fuck. 

Why the hell did Frank have to say it like _that_?

But he can’t deny that their eyes _are_ really pretty. The darkness of the eyeliner makes the hazel in their eyes pop. Their eyes draw Frank in, until he’s just standing there, staring. Getting lost in the little flecks of gold in their eyes and how wide their eyes are right now. 

They’re wearing a casual amount of the eyeliner, by Frank’s standards at the least, but also just enough to make them stand out. To make people want to look at them.

And Frank _is_ looking at them.

At the way their face lights up almost instantly, how they smile shyly as their face turns a soft shade of pink. They tuck a strand of hair behind their ear and stare at the counter like they don’t know what to do with a complement like that.

Surely, with how good they look, this person must be told things like that constantly. But Frank can’t get his words to work in order to tell them so again. 

“Thank you,” they say softly. So quiet Frank barely catches it. “People don’t normally think guys should wear makeup, ya know?”

Frank wonders why that is. Why humans would be so against one gender wearing something that is considered normal by the other.

Especially when it’s worn by someone like this person.

“I’m Gerard, by the way,” the person behind the counter says, suddenly. 

Frank smiles, he can’t help it.

“Frank.”

Gerard blushes again and Frank swears that his stomach does this weird flipping thing. 

“Um… for being so nice,” Gerard starts, the shy demeanor from earlier returning. “You can have anything you’d like off the menu. On the house.”

“Like, free?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says with a giggle.

Frank’s stomach does the weird thing again, like he’s about to puke but… less uncomfortable. It’s almost a nice feeling. But he’s not sure what it is exactly.

“Um… I just came in for a coffee,” Frank offers, hoping that he’s doing this right.

For the most part though, humans seem to talk fairly close to how demons do. So hopefully he’s not fucking this up. 

“That I can do,” Gerard says with a smile, one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Just a coffee? Do you want espresso or just brewed?”

Frank panics for a second at that. He has no clue what the difference is. 

He just gets the bland bag back home labeled “coffee” in all caps. How was he supposed to know that there’s more than one kind?

“Espresso?” he suggests, mostly because it was a strange word to hear Gerard say.

“On it.”

Gerard turns around and starts messing with a silver machine behind the counter that Frank hadn’t noticed before. He turns around a second later with a steaming paper cup in hand that he slides over to Frank.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Frank nods and wraps his hands around the cup, letting out a sigh when he feels the warmth bleeding into his freezing fingertips. He shivers a little and glances behind him. No one is in line yet so he turns back to Gerard.

“So I can sit wherever?” he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the seats.

Gerard glances where Frank was motioning and nods. 

“Yep. So long as no one else is sitting there already.” He pauses and gives Frank a long look, up and down. “You’re not from here are you?”

Frank’s heart stutters and he swears that it stops for a second completely.

Have his horns somehow become noticeable again?? Is it just obvious that he’s not from Earth?

Fuck. What is he going to have to do to Gerard if he _has_ figured out Frank is from Hell?

“Uh…” Frank laughs nervously and glances down at his coffee for strength. “Is it that obvious?”

Gerard giggles, a loud, easy sound that makes Frank’s stomach twirl again. The smile on his face is genuine again, much more alive than the one he gave Frank a minute ago.

“You don’t talk like you’re from Jersey and you look cold as hell so, I just assumed.” 

Frank frowns at “cold as hell”. Is that a saying here on Earth?

If it is, if humans think Hell is cold, then they’re in for a rude awakening if they end up there.

“I am cold,” Frank admits for lack of anything else to say in response to that. 

Gerard shrugs. “I can see that. The coffee should warm you up though.” 

Frank nods and takes a sip. He nearly spits it back out. 

It’s _strong_ , like a thousand times stronger than the shit he gets back home. But it tastes so fucking _good_ that he ends up taking another gulp less than a second later. “Fuck this is good coffee,” he groans under his breath, already feeling the warmth of it flowing through him.

He’d been tired earlier, from all the magic stuff he did in James’ house. Being on Earth makes his powers both weaker and more difficult for him to use. He’d been expecting it but was still dead on his feet just a minute ago. 

But the coffee feels like it’s washed every bit of that tired weight off of him. He’s almost convinced that Gerard is magic too because they just don’t _have_ coffee like this where Frank’s from.

Gerard is smiling shyly again when Frank looks up. The doorbell goes off then, snapping Frank out of the moment.

And what the fuck is he _doing_? Talking to a human like they’re his friend or something! Like they’re not human and he’s not a demon. 

He steps aside numbly as a human accompanied by two smaller humans comes up to the counter. As Gerard takes their order, Frank notices his voice tip from pleasant like it was when talking to him, to slightly more fake. More cheerful. But a thin sort of cheerful. It’s strange and Frank isn’t sure what it means. Had Gerard enjoyed talking to him more than he is the other customers?

Still in a daze at the implications of what that might mean, Frank deposits himself in an open chair and chugs his coffee.

_________________________________

“God Mikey it was amazing!”

“I know Gee,” Mikey assures him with a roll of his eyes. “Amazing enough for you to not stop talking about it all evening.”

Gerard punches him in the shoulder and huffs dramatically.

So what if Gerard wants to talk about the guy who made his shift go from horrible to really fucking good in a matter of like two seconds.

No customer has ever cared enough to try and cheer him up after something like that. Hell, most people just aren’t that nice. Gerard’s a stranger to them so they shouldn’t care if he’s two seconds from a breakdown at work. It's not their problem.

But that’s what made this guy stand out so much. He cared enough to cheer Gerard up, to _compliment_ him. That shit just doesn’t _happen_!

Gerard hasn’t stopped thinking about him all evening. Especially after Frank had left.

He ended up having to close the shop tonight, something about his boss not being able to make it to his shift or something? So, on top of working on a day he normally has off Gerard has also worked close to 10 hours on absolutely no sleep.

His day was fucking _horrible_ and Mikey’s complete disinterest over the small bit of good that happened today is hitting him hard. Gerard knows he’s pathetic for getting hung up on a random stranger who wasn’t an asshole to him but Mikey could at least pretend to care.

“Did you get his number at least?” Mikey asks with a raised eyebrow.

Gerard’s heart stutters at that. With what Mikey is implying.

Because most people, when someone clearly is a nice person and compliments them, they give that person their number. They go on a _date_.

And all of a sudden every bit of the warm, easy feeling that was flowing through him a second ago is gone. 

He’s had a bad day, _okay_? 

He _knows_ that he has said that he wanted Mikey to stop treating him like fucking glass but… but fucking _hell_. Mikey knows damn well that Gerard can’t just fucking give someone his number! 

He had to calm Gerard down _yesterday_ because he was freaking out over giving Lyn-z his number. So, why the fuck would Mikey think he’d be able to do that with someone he met for a total of five fucking _minutes_?

And yeah, that was the only good thing about today. The only reason he didn’t lock himself in the back room until it was time to close. He had a panic attack in the bathroom today because someone complained that their coffee was cold, for fucks sake! 

He’s a fucking wreck and Mikey knows this! 

And Gerard _knows_ he’s keeping Mikey up, talking about Frank and how nice he was, but fuck. Can’t he have this? Can’t he see another human being without Mikey or his mom instantly fucking assuming that he wants to date them instantly?

Because Gerard _did_ that once. He met someone nice and let them take him on a date. He fell for him. Hard enough for him to convince himself everything was fine when it was so clearly not. For Gerard to let him say those things, to let him hit him. Because Gerard hadn’t done the dishes so yeah, he deserved it. He hadn’t kissed him when he walked through the door when he knew that he was supposed to. He knew the rules and he broke them. It was only fair for him to be punished for that.

“Hey,” Mikey’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. 

Gerard isn’t sure when Mikey crossed the room, isn’t sure when he stopped being able to breathe normally. All he knows is that the room is spinning and that his chest feels like it’s caving in.

“Gee c’mon. Breathe with me. In with me,” Mikey takes an exaggerated breath, “out with me.” he lets it go.

Gerard tries to follow but his heart is pounding so loudly in his head that it’s all he can focus on. He’s still pissed at Mikey and he doesn’t particularly _want_ to do the stupid breathing thing with him. A petty part of him is content to sit here and hyperventilate because Mikey didn’t care three minutes ago. Why the fuck does he care _now_?

“Just focus on me,” Mikey tells him, voice tight with fear. 

But he’s trying to hide it. To look calm, for him. So the least Gerard can do is try and match his breathing to Mikey’s. Even though he’s still hurt from how he was acting a minute ago.

There’s a few, long moments of forcibly making his breaths mirror his brother’s before Gerard’s ears stop ringing. Each breath gets easier after that and eventually, he’s panting softly with his head resting in the crook of Mikey’s neck. Entirely too spent to care about being mad at Mikey anymore.

“Mikes,” Gerard chokes out, feeling fresh tears begin to run down his face.

Mikey just shushes him and wraps his arms a little tighter around him.

“Get your breath back. I’ve got you.”

It’s another small eternity before the tears stop. They leave him feeling hollow, cold. But Mikey’s hand is firm around his shoulders, keeping the hollow feeling from swallowing him completely.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Gerard says, once he’s certain that there's not another wave about to hit him and pull him back under.

“Nothing to apologize for, Gee. You know that.”

But Gerard shakes his head.

“I was _fine_ ,” he hiccups. “I was happy. I promise I was okay…”

Mikey’s hold on him gets a little stronger. Like he knows Gerard was lying.

“It’s my fault Gee. No-” he cuts Gerard off the second he opens his mouth to argue. “It was my fault this time. I was a dick. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Gerard shakes his head and drags himself up until he can look at Mikey properly.

“It’s not your fault,” he protests. 

Because it’s _not_.

Gerard can bitch and beg Mikey to stop treating him like he’s about to break over the smallest thing. But if Gerard keeps having these stupid fucking breakdowns over _nothing_ then there’s no wonder why Mikey keeps an eye on him like he does.

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard says again, weaker this time.

He doesn’t want Mikey to blame himself for Gerard being such a screw up. It’s not his fault. It never was. And, thankfully, Mikey raises his hand in defeat and lets Gerard sink back down on the floor next to him. 

The effect of the panic attack is hitting him now, that bone weariness that makes him want to sink down onto the floor completely and simply decompose there. How his head throbs behind his eyes as he leans against Mikey in the quiet of their kitchen.

He can almost hear their mom snoring upstairs. Can remember how horrible his day had been before Frank had shown up.

Working a Saturday was bad enough, but the customers were particularly needy today too. Demanding things instead of simply asking like a normal person, yelling at him when he took too long on their order.

But then Frank had come in and made Gerard’s day just a little brighter. He should have known though that that wouldn’t be enough to wash out all the other shit that happened today.

The brief little burst of happiness Frank gave him doesn’t erase the way Gerard will still see _his_ face in his nightmares tonight. And that's if he gets any sleep at all.

It doesn’t just magically make it so his little brother doesn’t have to talk him through a panic attack at midnight all because he suggested something perfectly normal.

For a moment, for one stupid fucking moment Gerard had almost felt like he was making progress. 

“You better not be blaming yourself for this,” Mikey says out of nowhere.

Gerard lets out a humorless laugh, one that makes his sore chest ache and his headache worse.

“Gee, I’m serious.” 

Mikey pulls away again and holds him by the shoulders at arm's length. Gerard can’t meet his eyes.

He knows that Mikey deserves to know why he’s so fucked up today. But that doesn’t make it easier to force the words out.

“I was thinking about _him_ ,” he admits under his breath.

He doesn’t see Mikey’s face fall but he knows that it does. 

Because some of the shit that that asshole at work said were so fucking close to what _he_ used to say. It brought Gerard back there. Back to that apartment. Back to black eyes and a rattling bottle of pills that grew more tempting everyday.

“ _Gerard_ …”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, shaking his head.

He’s not supposed to think about _him_. 

He’s supposed to be getting _better_.

Mikey sighs and pulls Gerard back into his arms. He doesn’t fight back.

They don’t say anything after that. There’s nothing to say anyway. Nothing Gerard can do to fix this.

He knows that he’s not all the way back to the beginning but… but it feels like it is.

Maybe this was just a bad one, maybe today just sucked ass. But, Gerard can almost taste the pills on his tongue. He can almost feel his hands shaking and the way everything swam when he’d move his head.

And it makes him sick, makes him want to dig his nails into his skin and claw the shit out of his veins.

Because he knows that it’s still in there. He took his pills this morning, the exact amount that he was supposed to. They’re in him but they’re not doing their job. They’re not _helping_. 

Gerard’s crying again, harsh ugly ones that he hates himself for.

Mikey’s murmuring something quiet to him under his breath, something Gerard can’t hear. 

But he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Mikey’s comfort.

Because he wants to take enough for them to work. For his head to just shut up, just for a few hours. Just a little while.

He hasn’t wanted that this badly in a long time. In months. 

And it terrifies him, down to his bones. 

He doesn’t want to go through all of that again but right now it feels like the only thing keeping him from falling apart into the same pieces as before is Mikey.

So he lets himself cry, lets Mikey talk to him in that quiet whisper. Lets him calm him down again. Wrap a blanket around his shoulders and lead him, stumbling through the dark house, into his bedroom. 

Mikey tucks him in, turns off the light and crawls into the bed beside him without a word. Gerard hates how he curls up against Mikey, how yet again his little brother is the only thing keeping him tethered here.

_____________________________________________________

Frank knows that there’s more to Earth than just humans.

There’s the angels. Who are absolute dicks and Frank would probably punch on sight if he were to run into one. 

There’s also other demons that’re bound to be around here, somewhere. The chances of him running into another demon is fairly high but he wouldn’t exactly stop to talk to them or anything. It’s not like he has friends. 

But, more importantly, there also used to be ghoul’s. Nasty little fuckers, something between a demon and an animal, that used to hide like vermin. 

Despite their small size, ghouls were fucking dangerous. They only ate demons, the ones small enough for them to take down. Small like Frank. 

They’re supposed to be extinct. Like, before Frank was alive, levels of extinction. 

He shivers at the thought of the old stories he used to hear and reminds himself that it would do him good to steer clear of those little fucks if they ever decided to come back.

Which is a bit late a thought. Seeing as he _should_ have walked away the second he saw the ghoul that’s sitting on the porch steps of his next human’s house.

It’s watching him, beady green eyes sizing him up. Deciding if he’s a threat.

Truthfully, Frank isn’t sure if he could take it in a fight. He’s weaker on Earth and he’s never exactly fought one of these fuckers. For obvious, thought to be extinct, reasons.

He knows that ghouls have claws that are razor sharp, hidden by their huge paws, and they’d almost be cute if they weren’t fucking rabid enough to try and gut him.

But he has to get up those steps. He has to do this stupid fucking assignment. Back from the dead ghoul or not.

There’s no way he could outrun the thing either. They’re supposed to be stupidly fast and his legs are stupidly short. 

Fuck his life.

Frank pulls the, comically, tiny knife from his pocket. He only carries it because it was something Ray gave him. A present from one of his trips here. 

He doubts it’ll do much damage to the ghoul but, he has to try.

It snarls at him but, in a rush of bravery- or stupidity- Frank steps forward. 

“Easy,” he says, keeping his voice even as he steps closer.

He'd rather not fight the thing if he can help it. His healing is much slower than he thought it would be and the fresh scars from last night’s name are still visible against the newer one.

Margaret Williams. 

And Frank needs to do his report on her so he _has_ to get past this ghoul. Preferably without getting shredded to bits. He’s pretty sure not even Ray would be able to bail him out of this if he ends up getting himself killed.

When he steps again, the ghoul bears its teeth. A mouthful of razor sharp fangs, just for Frank.

Lovely. 

“I gotta get through, little dude,” He says, calmly. Trying to hide how terrified he is. “I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me. Deal?”

The thing doesn’t pounce so Frank steps closer. 

He can hear music playing from inside the house, the sound of laughter.

The ghoul growls and steps closer to Frank. It’s spit starts to drip down onto the ground at its feet and Frank begins to realize that he’s fucked.

He holds his tiny little knife out, trying his hardest to look menacing.

“Back,” he tells the ghoul, jabbing his knife at it like he’s about to stab it. “Leave me alone.” It tilts its head and takes a step closer. It comes up to his waist, with only a foot between him and it’s fangs.

And then it pounces, leaping forward so fast Frank doesn’t have time to do anything but shout. It hits him in the chest with enough force to take him instantly to the ground. 

It’s claws are scratching at his face, at his chest like it wants to claw his heart out. His arms are pinned down by its weight and he’s no longer holding his pathetic little knife. The wind has been knocked out of him and he can hardly think through the way his lungs seize.

He shouts in pain when it’s claws dig particularly deep into his chest. But it does the trick to get him breathing again. Frank gasps in a breath and starts struggling again. The ghoul snarls, mouth right in his face, and drags it’s claws down his torso.

Blistering, burning pain erupts everywhere the claws touch him, dig into his skin. Frank’s mind begins to go hazy with panic. Or blood loss, that’ll probably do it too.

He can barely think but he knows that he has to get this fucking thing off of him before it kills him!

So, he summons every last drop of magic he has and pulls it up to the surface. He just needs a moment to concentrate, to think of what he needs to do. 

It’s almost impossible as the ghoul mercilessly digs its claws into him like it’s the funnest thing in the world. But then, it stops. Just for a split second. The ghoul shifts, probably to find a new soft part of him to tear to pieces. But that’s his chance.

Frank grunts and pushes his magic out as forcefully as he can. There’s no direct intent or anything, just him desperately wanting this fucking thing _off_ of him. 

It works, somehow. He hears a yip as it’s thrown off of him and out of view. There’s a sick crunch and a thud, but no other sound.

Frank giggles, he can’t help it. 

He almost fucking died by an overgrown dog and it’s fucking _hilarious_ for some goddamn reason. He starts laughing a little louder, grunting in pain between each breath. The entirety of his torso feels like it’s on fire and he’s pretty sure he hit his head when the thing tackled him. But who the fuck cares?

He beat the fucking thing. And hey, now he has something cool to tell Ray.

Most demons kept their distance from ghouls, for obvious reasons. But Frank fought one and won. That’s something he’s not even sure Ray would have been able to do. 

A bit of pride bubbles up at that.

Hell thinks he’s not trustworthy. Not as much of a demon as the others. Well, look who’s laughing now fuckers? 

After a moment longer to stop laughing, Frank drags himself to his feet. He sways dangerously and when he chances a look down he’s nearly sick. The yard looks like a murder scene. There’s blood absolutely everywhere. All over the dead grass of this lady’s backyard. All over Frank.

He’s still bleeding, red drops falling down onto the grass silently. His head swims and he curses his slowed goddamn healing.

Fuck.

Trying his magic anyway, he curses out loud as it barely stirs when he calls on it. Nowhere near enough for him to heal this. 

There’s no way he’s going to get anymore work done today, that’s for sure. Not unless he wants to scare the lady by looking like a stereotypical demon from Hell. 

Frank doesn’t even give the house another glance as he turns and begins slowly making his way back along the sidewalk. The clearing where he arrived should be safe enough for him to hide until his healing factor gets its shit together.

That is, if he doesn’t fucking bleed out first.

The walk there is a blur. He barely remembers it at all by the time he’s collapsing down onto the grass.

A breeze blows but it’s cold and Frank wishes he had had the forethought to grab a bigger jacket before he started on this assignment. 

It’s too late now though. He’s not going to be allowed back home until this is over. Until he reports on the hundred or so people supposedly under Hell’s influence. Fun.

A cough tears it’s way through him and Frank has to turn his head to spit out the gross taste it’s left behind. He tears his eyes away when it comes out red stained.

Fuck.

He can just barely feel his magic healing him, working on getting the bleeding to stop. It’s too slow though. It’s gonna take days for him to be back to normal rather than a few hours like normal.

If Ray were here… 

Well, there’s a chance Ray would call him a dumbass and just turn around and go back home. But he might also take pity on Frank and heal him. Maybe.

Either way, he now has a reason to call him. Might as well. Seeing as he’s going to be laying here at least for the night.

Frank lets his eyes close and searches for Ray.

He’s right where Frank expected to find him, at home.

‘Ray?’

There’s a moment of pause where Frank worries that he’s not going to be able to hear him over this distance. But then he hears Ray’s laugh in his head.

‘That was fast. What’d you fuck up?’

Frank scoffs, aware of the irony of the fact that he’s currently staining the grass he’s laying in with his own blood.

‘I didn’t fuck up,’ he defends, trying to sound as offended as possible.

‘Really?’

‘Really. Already got the first person on th’ list done and everything.’

Ray makes a surprised sound and Frank tries to make sure his annoyance transfers through their link.

‘Sorry,’ Ray tells him, ‘it’s just you’re an idiot and I can sense there’s something you’re not telling me. I’ve known you forever dude. Just spill.’

Frank huffs and turns over onto his side. The grass is sticky and gross but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to move some place less bloody, so he sighs and lays his head back down. It’s not all that uncomfortable, with his arm as a pillow and the trees blocking the worst of the wind. He’s pretty sure the bleeding has finally stopped too.

‘Frank?’

‘Hmm?’

He’s already forgotten what they were talking about. 

‘Are you okay?’ Ray asks slowly and for a moment Frank fears he can sense that he’s hurt through their link.

He doesn’t want Ray to know now. Doesn’t want to see his disappointment when he has to save Frank’s ass yet again. 

‘ ‘m fine.’

He can see Ray’s eyeroll and then there’s a spark through their link. Ray’s using his magic.

‘I’m not dumb Frank. I’ll be there in a minute or two.’

‘No!’ Frank sits up so fast he makes himself dizzy. ‘No, Ray you can’t come here!’

A pause. ‘Why?’

His argument vanishes instantly. Why _can’t_ Ray come and help him?

It’s not like there’s rules against getting help on assignments and it’s not like Ray isn’t allowed to go wherever the fuck he wants.

But, also, this is _Frank’s_ assignment. This is one of the first things he’s been asked directly to do in _ages_.

His silence is enough of an answer for Ray.

‘Hang on. I’m on my way.’

Frank doesn’t have time to protest before the sharp ringing sound of a portal cuts through the clearing. He watches from the ground as the portal grows and Ray steps out.

He stands there for a second and then his eyes dart down to the ground and he spots Frank.

Ray makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a curse as he drops down to his knees beside Frank.

“What the fuck did you _do_?”

Frank laughs but it’s a wet sound, one that only serves to make the lines on Ray’s face deeper.

“I found a ghoul,” he mutters, trying for a smile.

“A ghoul? Frank those things have been dead for centuries.”

“Well, one of the bastards found me,” Frank counters, a little hurt by the way Ray was so quick to dismiss him.

But, Ray does take a nervous glance around the clearing as if he’s searching for the ghoul.

“I killed it,” Frank adds, unable to hide the pride that swells from the statement.

“You _what_?”

“Killed it. Dead as a doornail.”

Ray laughs and shakes his head. 

“Of course you did. I’d tell you good job but your head’s already big enough as is.”

Frank gasps in mock offense. “Hey!”

Raising his voice earns him another wet cough and another disgustingly red spit into the grass. 

“Oh fuck. Frank…”

His eyes are sobered when Frank glances up at him.

“He might have gotten a few good hits on me,” Frank defends with a weak smile. 

Ray huffs and makes him lay back down. The clearing is dead silent as Ray lays his hands over Frank’s stomach.

A soft red glow overtakes the gentle darkness that had covered them. Frank can see the worry on Ray’s face, how hard he’s trying to hide it. If he lifts his head and looks down, he can see his skin knitting back together under Ray’s hands.

He lets his head fall back against the grass and tries to focus on anything other than Ray having to bail him out so soon. 

So he watches the stars. The way the world just sort of tilts and curves into the sparkling galaxies. Like someone flicked a paintbrush at the sky, letting the little flecks of paint land randomly against the inky background.

Frank is only pulled from his thoughts, or lack thereof, when Ray sits him up. The clearing is dark again and when he looks down, he finds only the barest scars in the wake of the gapping wounds that’d been there just moments before.

“How do you feel?” Ray asks softly, wordlessly holding Frank up until he gets his bearings again. 

“Good. Better.”

Ray nods. “I did what I could. I’m not as strong here but you should be fully healed by morning. Just,” Ray looks down. “Just swear to me you won’t tell a soul that I was here.”

Frank pulls away at that, stumbling to his feet and turning around to look at Ray in confusion.

“Why?”

His question is only met with a sigh and suddenly Frank gets the feeling that he’s missing something.

“Because this must be a trial.”

Just like the other day, Ray doesn’t elaborate and Frank has to bite his tongue to keep from demanding him to continue.

“Don’t look at me like that…”

“Like _what_?” Frank demands, more of his frustration seeping out than he intended.

“Frank-”

“No. Ray I know that you know more about this assignment than you’re telling me. I don’t give a fuck how or why you do, but you _do_ know more than you’re telling me. Don’t you.”

For a moment it looks like Ray is about to argue but then he just glances up to the stars, like they’ll give him the strength he needs for this conversation, and motions for Frank to sit down.

“It’s a long story, sit.”

For once, Frank does as he’s told. He sits cross legged in the grass, away from the red-stained grass that he does his very best to ignore and pretend isn’t there at all.

Ray sits down in front of him, takes a hair tie from his wrist, and messily pulls his hair into a bun. 

“You’re right. There’s more to this than you’ve been told. I-” he glances down at his hands. “I only know because I might have eavesdropped the day they discussed your assignment.”

Frank’s eyes go wide and he can’t stop the grin that breaks out over his face.

“You did something _bad_? Without me there? Toro I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

Ray rolls his eyes but there’s a smirk he’s barely hiding.

“Yes. It might be news to you but I _do_ have thoughts of my own, asshole.”

“Okay,” Frank says with a giggle, raising his hands in surrender. “So what aren’t they telling me?”

“You know how I said that they’re testing your loyalty?” Frank nods. “ Well, apparently someone claims to have seen you doing an act of treason. I didn’t hear what the accusation was exactly but… well you know how serious something like that is.”

Frank can’t say anything.>

_Treason_? 

He hasn’t even done anything other than go to work or hang out with Ray for like- literal _years_.

“So, because there wasn’t hard proof or whatever, He signed off on this assignment. To see if you were willing to possibly report on other demons who’ve failed at their jobs of influencing humans.”

“But-” Frank shakes his head hard and stands, beginning to pace back and forth. “I haven't done anything remotely against the rules in fucking _ages_! The worst I’ve done is almost being late to a trial because I’ve overslept!”

“I know. And if they’d asked me you know I would have defended you without a thought. But that’s the thing. This is all… underwraps. For whatever reason. No one was consulted other than the Devil and his highest council members. But, Frank, there’s more.”

Frank spins around at that, stopping mid pace to shoot Ray a look of disbelief.

“It’s not bad enough that they think I'm a traitor? That I’d go against Him, after everything?”

“Sit down,” Ray tells him, patting the grass beside him in invitation. “Before you fall down.” He stumbles over and drops down beside Ray. Without a word Ray wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug.

“They’re doing trials. Adding obstacles to your assignment to see how far you’re willing to go. The ghoul… must have been the first.”

Frank’s head sways and he’s thankful Ray’s hugging him because he might have fallen over if not.

Because Hell is _trying_ to make him fail. To prove that he’s not loyal or some other fucking bullshit. 

“I’ve done everything,” Frank says quietly, too exhausted and too shocked to make the words any louder.

“I know.”

“I”ve done everything,” he says again, hating how his voice breaks. “Everything they’ve asked. Always.”

“I- I know it doesn’t fix this, but I’m looking into finding out who gave them the false accusation on you. And once I do, I swear to God that I’m going to make their life fucking _miserable_ until either your name is cleared or the piece of shit dies on me.”

Frank nods and squeezes his eyes shut so Ray can’t see the wetness of his eyes. 

He has no doubt that Ray would kill the motherfucker who’s spreading this shit and a part of him is insanely fucking proud right now because of that. If a little happy that he’s not on Ray’s bad side. The dude’s scary as fuck when he wants to be. 

But he also just, doesn’t see the point. The lies have already ruined Frank’s reputation. He’s fought so fucking hard to get to where he is. To have what he has.

He’s built this from the ground up and- and it’s not fucking _fair_ that he’s lost it in the course of a day.

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning,” Ray says after a while. “Rest. I’ll keep watch in case there’s any more of the little fuckers hiding around here.”

“But-”

“It’s fine,” Ray assures him with a nod. “I don’t have to work tomorrow. I’ll be back before anyone misses me.”

As much as Frank hates it, he falls asleep quickly after that. Pulled down by the comfort of knowing Ray will protect him, and the exhaustion of his barely healed wounds.

He dreams of blankness, of red stained fangs. Of the red-tinted glow of Ray. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to yell at me in the comments! I know I've been mean this chapter haha


	4. I'd Shoot The Sunshine Into My Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *anxiety   
> *alcohol mention  
> *a bit more of past abuse. Nothing really graphic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning everyone.   
> Sorry this one is a bit late, this week has been a little rough. This one is sort of filler but it's necessary. Next chapter should pick back up.  
> A huge thank you to i-like-to-wander-around-here on tumblr for her help with this chapter. I really couldn't do it without her!  
> Enjoy guys!
> 
> *chapter title is from 27 by Fall Out Boy*

Gerard doesn’t end up sleeping much. He wakes up only a few hours after Mikey brought him downstairs. He knows Mikey isn’t asleep either, can tell by the way he’s breathing and how he rolls over so Gerard has a little extra room.

But there’s no expectation for them to say anything, to even acknowledge the fact that neither of them are going to get any more sleep. It’s a companionable silence, one that Gerard revels in. He’s too anxious to fall back asleep but too tired to get up and keep himself busy. But just having Mikey here with him, a quiet offer of strength, is enough to keep the worst of his anxiety at bay.

He’s still shaky and the tight feeling in his chest hasn’t really gone away, but it’s not overpowering. He can just focus on the sound of Mikey breathing beside him and pretend that they’re little kids again. Having a sleepover because they snuck and watched a scary movie after their mom told them not to. 

Well, Mikey does pull out his phone an hour or so after Gerard wakes up and climbs out of bed to sit at the desk across the room. It’s probably obvious now, that Gerard really doesn’t feel like talking- or even moving- any time soon. So Gerard can’t blame him for not wanting to stay in bed all day. It’s probably morning by now, anyway.

But, for once, Gerard doesn’t mind that Mikey is keeping himself busy texting the whole fucking state. It means that he doesn’t have to answer any of the thousands of questions his brother is sure to have.

He won’t be getting out of answering them, he knows this. And if he puts it off long enough, Mikey can and _will_ drag their mom into this. But, that’s a problem for later. When Gerard can face the task of actually looking at his brother. 

For now, his only plan is to try and go back to sleep. At least when he’s asleep his thoughts can’t go wild like they do when he’s awake.

He can’t stop himself from running over what he remembers of his breakdown last night. Which, truthfully, isn’t much. He remembers Mikey’s disinterest. Remembers Frank’s smile at work earlier that day. The little flutter in Gerard’s chest when Frank complimented him. Then the asshole customer’s smirk when he realized he had gotten under Gerard’s skin. But then he remembers flashes of before. Of _him_. 

Gerard had been able to smell it, the smoke and alcohol. It laid heavy in the air last night. Even though neither he or Mikey smoke. Their mom does, but only outside. Because she knows it could set Gerard off. 

There was no smoke last night and he knows Mikey hadn’t had anything to drink because he was with Gerard all evening.

Which leaves him with the slightly more terrifying option. It had just been in his head.

Purposefully, he takes a deep, slow breath. It hurts, a bit, but it also clears his head. 

Because, yeah last night was bad. One of the worst breakdowns he’s had in a while now but he doesn’t want to like… _die_ or anything. He’s just tired and a bit burnt out. It’s nothing a solid day of doing nothing can’t fix. 

He’s _okay_. All things considered. 

And it’s kind of a relief. To not wake up from one of these breakdowns craving shit that’s not good for him. To be able to lay here and just let himself rest and wind down the rest of the way.

And, truth be told, he’s kind of thankful for Mikey giving him his space right now. He’s not sure if he’d be able to put what’s going on in his head into words. 

He doesn’t want to accidentally let something slip and have Mikey panicking. Have him assume the worst when, in actuality, Gerard’s… alright. 

Not great. Not bad. Just, alright. 

And, besides, Gerard has already worried him way more than enough today, he doesn’t need to add any more onto Mikey’s plate.

He doesn’t have to turn over to know Mikey is sneaking glances his way, thinking that Gerard doesn’t notice. It’s something he does often and Gerard caught onto quickly. Mikey acts as if the second he takes his eyes off of him, something will go wrong. 

And that’s one of the reasons Gerard isn’t ready to open up about what went wrong last night.

He’s _not_ glass. Whether or not Mikey believes that, is an entirely different thing.

But Gerard isn’t going to just break, not over something like yesterday. And he knows that. As bad as last night was, he’s come out on the other side. 

It’s going to take a lot of explaining to even get Mikey to leave him alone at all today, he knows that. And while he’s so fucking grateful for his brother’s obvious concern, he also sort of wishes Mikey trusted him.

He worries more than enough, more than a little brother should. Gerard should be the one dragging Mikey into bed in the middle of the night. But instead of it being a panic attack, it should be because he did what _normal_ kids Mikey’s age do. Drink. Go to parties and get in trouble. Kiss people that they shouldn’t. 

Miss 8am’s because they’re too hungover to get out of bed.

And while that’s probably not the healthiest thing in the world, spending every moment of his life worrying over Gerard isn’t all that much better.

_______________________________________

Much to Mikey’s relief, Gerard finally falls back to sleep around lunch.

He needs the rest. He barely got any sleep the night before, even with Mikey right here. Mikey knows first hand how much breakdowns like the one from last night take out of his brother. He wouldn’t be surprised if Gerard slept off and on all day.

It kills him to see his brother struggling so much. To hear him muttering a name in his sleep that sends fire through Mikey’s blood.

If he didn’t know for a fact that the asshole is in jail right now, _Mikey_ would likely be in jail for attempted murder. And he wouldn’t have a single regret if it meant Gerard would be able to sleep a little better at night. If it meant Gerard wouldn’t be thrown back to what that asshole did to him over something as small as a bad day.

But, it’s not a small thing. Or such an easy fix. And Mikey knows that. Or, at least, he’s trying to understand.

He has no idea how it feels, what it’s like to go through what Gerard did. And that’s what makes this so hard.

When he glances over the top of his phone to the curled up blob that is his older brother, Mikey’s heart breaks a little more. He can see Gerard’s hands fisted in the sheets, like he’s trying to ground himself even though he’s not awake. He can hear how heavily he’s breathing too and, even after the year or so he’s had to learn about this kind of stuff, Mikey is at a loss for what to do.

Gerard won’t talk to him. Not really.

He’ll only know what’s going on in that head of his when things are _bad_. Bad like last night. 

It’s never an exact science, either. 

Because up until he started really freaking out, Mikey had genuinely thought Gerard was okay. That he was crushing on that Frank guy and was playing along with Mikey’s feigned disinterest. Which, of fucking _course_ Mikey is interested in someone who Gerard talked to! 

Gerard _needs_ more friends, needs to learn that the world isn’t as small as he was told it is. That there are people out there who care about him and won’t hurt him. 

His breakdown last night is almost completely _Mikey’s_ fault.

If he had just read the signs better and realized how bad yesterday had been, had stopped being an idiot and teasing his brother, then he might have been able to avoid what happened.

He wants to fix this. Wants to figure out a way to show Gerard that, while him being affected by the shitty day that he had was normal, he also is a hell of a lot stronger than he thinks. 

Mikey _knows_ Gerard. He knows him better than almost anyone and so, he could assure you with absolute certainty that Gerard is so, so strong.

He let Mikey touch him last night, when a few months ago touching Gerard when he was panicking would have been _disastrous_. But he let Mikey hug him, lead him to bed. Stay with him all night. That’s _progress_ and Mikey is so fucking proud of him because of that.

So, maybe he hasn’t fucked this up completely. 

But, right now he’s in completely uncharted territory. 

Gerard’s okay… at least as okay as he can be. And he’s happy for that, glad that Gerard’s recovering. But, each little moment of growth leads Mikey further into not knowing what the fuck he’s doing.

He’s not sure if he should stay here with Gerard all day. Just to keep him company. Would Gerard even want that?

But then, what’s going to happen when Mikey inevitably has to go to work and classes tomorrow? 

Not to mention the fact that Gerard has work tomorrow. He can’t miss anymore days and Mikey highly doubts that he’s going to be able to deal with customers. No one is going to care that Gerard’s had a bad day, all they’re going to focus on is how fast he can get them their stupid coffee. 

Not for the first time, Mikey wishes Gerard didn’t have to go to work.

Sure, he’s the one who got the job for him. But that was mainly because Gerard was so convinced he was being a _burden_ by staying home. Of course, he would _never_ be a burden in Mikey’s eyes. And it’s not like Gerard just didn’t try and decided to stay home forever. No, he’s been through hell and back. And, while Mikey wishes Gerard could see it that way, he also knows that this job is good for him.

It gets him out of the house, lets him have his own money that he can spend on comics and paints and things. Having this job led to him meeting Lyn-z. So, as stressful as it is, Mikey knows that it _is_ good for Gerard. 

But he still wishes Gerard didn’t have to put himself through going back to work so soon. Especially on days like today, where it’s going to be a miracle if he even gets out of bed. 

Or, should Mikey actually try and get him up and out of his room today?

Would that help him or just make things worse?

Once again, Mikey is in uncharted territory. He sort of wishes his mom was home. But she’d probably be just as lost as he is.

His phone buzzes in his hand, startling him from his thoughts. 

It’s just Lyn-z asking him if he wants to go to some show tonight.

Mikey debates it for a long moment, thumb hovering over his screen. 

Would Gerard be okay if Mikey leaves? He’d really rather not leave him alone. What if he panics again? Or something happens and Mikey isn’t there to help?

Okay, so leaving him alone is a big no. But, maybe Mikey could ask him if he wants to come too?

He glances down and re-reads Lyn-z’s message. 

_Derik’s. Tonight. Live music. You should come._

Derik’s is this little club on the other side of town. It’s a shitty place but that’s why people go to it. Mikey used to practically _live_ there on the weekends. It was his own way of getting rid of stress from school and work.

That is, until he figured out _why_ Gerard had stopped calling him and answered the door one night to find him half fucking dead. That put a hold on his partying for a while, unsurprisingly.

Mikey hasn’t been to Derik’s in ages. Hell, he hasn’t even gone out in ages. 

He’s busy with school, with work. With Gerard. Because how could he just leave Gerard home with their _parents_ while he goes out and has fun? He’d be the worst brother _ever_ if he did something like that.

But, at the same time, he _really_ wants to go. He misses the music, the shitty beer and the feel of too many bodies packed into one building. Misses that soreness the next morning from being shoved and stepped on by the crowd. There’s nothing like it. 

Would it really be so bad if he went?

He’s been stressed as fuck recently. He needs to unwind, get drunk and maybe make out with some random person in the crowd.

He presses his thumb to the first letter but then, he stops.

 _Yes,_ leaving Gerard would be bad. The hell was he thinking?

Gerard _needs_ him. Especially today of all days and Mikey’s fucking social life is a sacrifice he’s willing to make for his brother’s _life_. It’s no contest and Mikey can’t fucking believe he was about to just leave Gerard like that.

He quickly types out a no to Lyn-z, explaining vaguely about family stuff. He hopes she’ll understand.

To his surprise, not a minute after he hits send, his screen lights up with a call. He frowns and glances over to Gerard. When he finds him still sleeping deeply, Mikey quickly hurries up the steps before Lyn-z can hang up.

The second the basement door closes behind him he’s answering the phone.

“What ‘d you want?”

“Well,” he hears Lyn-z fake scoff on the other end. “Hello to you too.”

Mikey sighs and leans his back against the door. The house is silent and he briefly thanks whatever deity is listening that his dad is nowhere to be found. He’d rather not have to go through the trouble of hearing the jokes about him “finally talking to a lady”.

“Sorry,” he says with a groan. “Long night.”

He really didn’t mean to sound snappy with Lyn-z. He’s just tired and has a lot on his mind. 

“What’s goin’ on with Gee?”

“How did you know-”

“Family stuff?” Lyn-z repeats with a knowing edge to her voice. 

Mikey groans again and lifts his glasses to run a hand down his face. 

“It’s a long story, Lynds.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll be there in 20.”

“What?” Mikey pushes himself off the door. “No. Lynds, you don’t have to-”

“You’ve been up with him all night haven't you.”

Mikey’s lack of an answer is an answer in and of itself. And he knows it.

“Just-” he tries again, lowering his voice so he doesn’t run the risk of waking Gerard. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I’m getting in the car now. Meet you in 15.”

The phone beeps telling him the call has ended.

He probably should be upset that Lyn-z basically invited herself over. But he’s not. Because she’s right. He’s exhausted and having someone else here to watch over Gerard wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

And if he could maybe ask for some advice or get _her_ to talk to Gerard, all the better.

_______________________________________

By the time the sun comes up, Frank is just beginning to stir. Ray’s heart lurches when Frank groans in pain and curls tighter into the jacket he’s sleeping on. 

He should be mostly healed by now but he’s still probably feeling sore from his injuries. The ghoul really did a number on him.

It’s frustrating to know that Frank _wouldn’t_ be in pain if they were back home. Fuck, if Frank wasn't on this assignment he wouldn’t have been hurt in the _first_ place. A part of Ray wishes he could drag Frank back home and that they could forget this whole thing ever happened.

But that’s not possible. 

Not when there’s someone back in Hell that’s trying to frame Frank for treason. Ray isn’t sure why they’d pick Frank, of all demons. He’s a background sort of person. Easily overlooked. 

And Frank banks off of that, off of people barely noticing him. It means he can get away with more, can think a little more freely.

Now, Ray has never known Frank to actually do something _illegal_. Being late for work and having shitty focus, yeah sure. He’s talked Ray into bending the rules a couple of times too. But it’s never been something big. 

The biggest thing was honestly when Ray, _purposefully_ , lied right to His face and said Frank didn’t start that big fight. But, while Frank had technically broken a rule that day, it was all circumstantial. 

And Ray just… _couldn’t_ see the justification in punishing Frank for defending himself after some asshole had called him _that_. If situations were reversed, Ray would have probably done the same. So, he’d lied. He committed one of the worst crimes, lying right to the Devil’s face, just for Frank. And he’d do it again. Gladly.

To prove his innocence. To prove that while Frank may have his faults, he’s one of the most loyal people Ray has ever met. 

“Ray?” Frank slurs a few minutes later.

He slowly lifts his head and takes an unfocused look around him. He sounds like shit and it makes an ache form in Ray’s gut. The last thing that Ray wants is for Frank to be in more pain. He wishes there was more that he could do. 

“Morning asshole.”

Frank giggles, like he’s uncovered some great secret, and flings himself into a sitting position with a grunt. He’s a bit too pale for Ray’s liking and in the morning light he can see the blood that’s now dried on his clothes. But he’s alive so at least there’s that.

“How ya feelin’?”

Frank glances down as if he’s trying to figure that out for himself. 

“Sore,” he tells Ray with a humorless chuckle. “But good.”

As if Frank would admit that he wasn’t feeling better. Ray knows that it probably took a lot for him to even call him in the first place. And even then he’d tried to play off the fact that he was hurt at all. The absolute _idiot_.

He’s gonna be the death of Ray one of these days. 

“ ‘m hungry,” Frank adds, proceeding to laugh again when his stomach grumbles.

He may still be a little loopy from blood loss, Ray notes.

But Ray doesn’t have any food on him. He wasn’t exactly planning on taking a last minute trip to Earth to bail out his accident prone best friend. Life’s funny that way.

He wants to stay, to take Frank to a nice restaurant and get some food in him. Maybe even find a place that isn’t the ground for him to sleep on. Let him get his strength back before Ray has to leave.

But he can’t. He’ll be missed if he stays away any longer. He’s already pushing it as is.

And, while he’d gladly get into trouble for Frank’s sake, he also needs to be as clean-slated as possible if he wants to find out whoever is spreading misinformation. 

So, Ray sighs and leans over to ruffle Frank’s hair. If only to see him scowl and try and fix it the second Ray removes his hand.

It’s worth the little smile that ghosts on Frank’s face. Even when he’s about to make that smile fade.

“I've gotta go.”

Frank’s eyes dart up to him, wide and scared for a split second. He won’t ever say it out loud, but fighting that ghoul scared him. A lot. Ray can see it clear as day. And it’s obvious that he’s probably afraid of another finding him. If He brought back one, there’s no reason why He didn’t bring them all back. 

The thought scares Ray too, if he's honest with himself. 

Frank barely survived one and there was a _reason_ the fuckers were hunted to extinction. 

“But-”

“I’m gonna start investigating,” Ray interrupts him gently, trying for a smile even though it feels forced. “The sooner I can prove your innocence, the sooner you can get out‘a here. Right?”

Frank sighs but nods his head in agreement. 

“I’ll stay in contact,” Ray adds. “Just in case.”

Frank’s smile is a little easier this time, a little more sure. Ray wishes he could help more, could ease the last of Frank’s pain and help him get a head start on the next person. But he can’t. And he hates that he has to choose. Between investigating who’s spreading the lies, and actually being there to help Frank. 

Perhaps seeing Ray’s dilemma, his hesitancy to leave, Frank sends a little push of affection through their minds. It’s not really tangible, just the feeling of how much Frank appreciates him. That he’s glad Ray is here. But it makes some of Ray’s guilt for having to leave him fade. 

And now, Ray knows that he has to go.

So, he stands and pops his back with a groan. Frank doesn’t get up, but it’s not like Ray expected him too. 

“See you,” Ray tells him with a wave, his other hand already forming the portal for him to step through.

_____________________________________

The knock at the door is quiet and if Mikey hadn’t been sitting in the living room, with the basement door open so he could hear if Gerard woke up, then he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. He gets up and goes over to the door, mentally preparing himself for whatever is about to happen.

Lyn-z offers him a tight, sympathetic smile when he greets her.

He motions her inside and glances quickly to the basement door that’s across the room. If Gerard had almost had an anxiety attack about Lyn-z coming over when he was the one who invited her, there’s no telling what might happen if he realizes she’s here now.

“Mikey,” her hand presses onto his shoulder. “You alright?”

He nods numbly and leads her to sit on the couch with him. He’s not really sure what he’s supposed to say now. How he’s supposed to explain this when Gerard has made it very clear that they’re not supposed to talk about what happened. 

“You had coffee yet?” Lyn-z asks as she sets her bag on the coffee table.

He shakes his head and, for a moment, she looks concerned. But then the carefully cheerful expression is back as she stands up.

“I’ll make us some then. You think I should make some for Gee?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Mikey admits with a shrug.

Maybe they could bribe Gerard out of his room with coffee. 

As Lyn-z busies herself with the coffee, Mikey stretches and tries to think of what he’s going to do. 

He _wants_ to just tell Lyn-z what’s going on, show her why Gerard’s having one of his bad days. Maybe she could help. Having someone else, other than Mikey, to talk to about this stuff might actually help Gerard in the long run.

But he knows that he can’t tell Lyn-z. Not unless Gerard is the one telling her. He can’t abuse Gerard’s trust like that. By spilling his most guarded secrets to someone he’s known for barely four months.

The smell of coffee wafts from the kitchen and Mikey can feel his caffeine headache lessen just a tad. He had hardly noticed but, now that he is thinking of coffee, his head throbs as if it’s reminding him of how little he’s had in the last 24 hours.

He wonders if the smell would be enough to get Gerard to come upstairs.

So, while Lyn-z is busy in the other room, Mikey goes back down to the basement. 

Gerard’s right where he left him but he can tell by the little shuffle he does, that he’s awake now. That can either be a good thing, or a really bad one.

The only thing he can do is talk to him and find out. 

“Gee?” He calls softly, standing at the edge of his bed.

He’s not sure how Gerard would react to him touching him and he really doesn’t want to risk it. 

It’s a small miracle when Gerard groans. He’s making noise, that’s a good sign.

“Coffee’s making. Mom ‘n dad are gone. Wanna come upstairs?”

He very carefully doesn’t mention that Lyn-z is here. 

“Bring it here?” Gerard whispers softly, like he’s afraid of lifting his voice.

“Nope. Only if you come upstairs. To the couch at th’ least.”

Gerard groans and for a second Mikey’s sure he’s taken it too far. But then Gerard’s head pops out of the blankets. His hair is wild and there’s dark shadows under his eyes, but he offers Mikey the smallest of nods. He’s not quite sure what it means, if it’s a thank you or a simple acknowledgement of his existence. But he finds himself smiling anyway. 

Gerard doesn’t say a word as he pries himself out of bed at a snail’s pace. Though, it’s a small victory that it took so little prodding, because the _last_ time Gerard had a breakdown as bad as the one last night, he didn’t leave his room for nearly a week.

Once Gerard’s out of bed, Mikey leads him up the stairs. They’re both still in their clothes from the day before, but Mikey knows better than to push his luck right now. Baby steps. 

He can try and get him to change if and when he doesn’t have another panic attack once he notices Lyn-z is here.

When they get to the top of the stairs Mikey pauses and turns around. Telling Gerard would probably be better than just letting him suddenly see Lyn-z in the kitchen. Mikey’s really trying to avoid a repeat of last night, so he holds his hands out to get Gerard to stay put.

It gets him a halfhearted look of confusion from his brother. 

“Okay, so don’t run off. But, Lyn-z may or may not be in the kitchen.”

Gerard’s eyes go wide and, for a moment, it looks like he’s about to start hyperventilating again. But, much to Mikey’s surprise, he swallows nervously and nods. 

Mikey raises his brow at that but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Lyn-z comes into the living room. She’s got two mugs in her hand and she bee-lines over to them.

Mikey takes his without a word, more focused on Gerard right now than his body begging him to drink the coffee.

Gerard’s gone pale again and his hands shake as he takes the cup offered to him. But Lyn-z doesn’t even mention it, doesn’t even bat an eye. She just tells Gerard good morning and herds the two of them over to the couch.

It’s a mild surprise when Gerard chooses to sit practically on top of Mikey rather than on the unoccupied rest of the couch. But he doesn’t question it. 

“Okay, so you two gonna tell me why you both look like literal shit?” 

She gives Mikey a strong look, daring him to deny it. Gerard just keeps his head down. 

“Um, it’s a long story,” Mikey begins uncertainly. 

He’s waiting on Gerard to either add in what’s going on or tell him to shut up. He doesn’t want to be the one to decide how much Lyn-z is told today. Especially when none of it is his to tell.

“You already said that,” Lyn-z tells him, not un-gently but still firmly.

Mikey glances over to Gerard, who’s practically clinging to his shoulder. When he meets his eye, Mikey wordlessly asks what he wants to do. The answer isn’t really an answer. Just a shrug of Gerard’s shoulders and his eyes falling to the mug in his hand. But it’s not a no. 

He’s given Mikey permission to tell her.

Mikey’s never been more terrified in his life. 

He has no clue where to begin, so he starts right when it started to go wrong.

“Um… you know Gerard went to college for a while, right?” Lyn-z nods. “So it was his junior year when he met this guy. They seemed perfect for eachother and I was really happy for them. I didn’t even think twice about it, about him, until Gerard called me to tell me he dropped out. That he’d ran off to New York with the guy.”

Mikey can feel how tense Gerard is against him and he begins to fear that hearing this story won’t help calm him down from last night. But, he hasn't told Mikey to stop.

Lyn-z sits on Mikey’s other side, her face solemn but somehow understanding. It helps him to continue.

“After that, I didn’t really talk to him much. I know from what Gerard told me later on, that the guy he was dating was… was a horrible person. He cut Gerard off from everyone, kept him inside for months, and- and he was violent too.” 

Gerard takes a shaky drink of his coffee. But, when Mikey catches his attention to see if he’s alright, there’s a determination there that hadn’t been in his eyes a moment ago. So, Mikey continues, a small spark of pride in his chest. This is the longest they’ve continued to talk about what happened since it _happened_. 

“Um. It got bad. But I didn’t know, I just- I thought Gee was busy with city life or whatever. I stopped calling because no one would ever answer and I just-”

“You had no way of knowing,” Gerard defends suddenly, sitting up and all but glaring at Mikey.

Mikey can’t do anything but gape at him. 

“I’m with Gee on that, actually.”

Lyn-z is giving him a look that dares him to argue, to try and blame himself any more. Outnumbered, and secretly relieved that neither of them blame him, Mikey raises his hands in surrender.

Gerard settles back down beside him and they both wait for Mikey to continue.

“About a year or so after Gee moved away, I got this call. It was at like 8 in the evening and all it was was breathing on the other end. I didn’t know it was him. I- I should have known but-” he shakes his head. “And then, in the middle of the night, he showed up at the door.”

Mikey doesn’t bring up the damage that Gerard’s fiance did to his mental health. Doesn’t bring up the pills or the way Gerard was so tiny back then that _Mikey_ was bigger than he was. He tries to push down the memories, the feeling of horror when he realized exactly what had happened.

That’s for another day. Another conversation.

“He’d left me alone for like a week,” Gerard begins under his breath. He won’t look at either of them but his voice is strong, sure. “I didn’t know what to do. But I- I knew I had to leave.”

Lyn-z curses and runs her hands through her hair. She looks pissed and Mikey is glad that he’s not the only one who is willing to put that asshole into an early grave.

“ _Fuck_ Gee,” she exclaims in exasperation. “That- The fact that you got out, on your _own_. God I can’t even imagine.”

She shakes her head and leans around to wrap them both into a side armed hug. “I’m so fucking proud of you though, for how strong you’ve been. You didn’t deserve that and if I ever see that shit stain’s face I can assure you he won’t be walking ever again.”

It’s a miracle when Gerard laughs. It’s a small sound, weak with the emotion laying so heavy over the three of them. But it’s real and there’s a tiny spark in Gerard’s eye when Mikey wraps his arm around him for a hug.

“He’s in jail,” Gerard admits, leaning into Mikey’s hug like it’s that first one all over again. 

“Lucky for him,” Lyn-z tells them seriously, squeezing them once before letting go.

Mikey has no doubt that she’d kill Gerard’s ex if she ever saw him. She’d wouldn’t go easy on him either and that knowledge is enough to make some of the worry that was twisting in his gut lessen. 

Gerard’s safe now. The only thing that can hurt him is the past and that’s getting further away every day.

“So,” Gerard says quietly, glancing once to Mikey for support. “Last night I was… on edge I guess. A guy at work set me off and reminded me of him.”

Mikey feels his heart stutter. 

When Gerard first came back home, he had actually _missed_ his ex. Mikey had to have his phone on him at all times because Gerard would try and take it to text him. 

And that was terrifying. Knowing that his brother didn’t realize how bad of a person his ex was back then. He’s always afraid that Gerard is going to freak out one day and try and get back into contact with him.

“But,” Gerard amends quickly. The look on his and Lyn-z’s faces must betray how badly they both want to pummel the jerk who was cruel to him. “I”m okay now. I got it all out, I think. ‘M fine now.”

Lyn-z smiles and nods once. Mikey is able to see the relief as it washes over Gerard’s face.

Okay, so maybe Mikey shouldn’t have been _as_ worried. 

He’s sort of in awe though when Lyn-z suggests that they make some lunch and Gerard actually _agrees_.

It’s not like Mikey expected Gerard to just stop eating or something, but it.was sort of a shock to see him nod when Lyn-z brought it up.

They head into the kitchen together, Lyn-z making Gerard giggle as she points out the Darth Vader on his coffee mug. 

The sound echoes through the house. Or at least, it feels that way. 

Hearing Gerard laugh like this, so real and genuine, has been rare ever since he moved back home. Mikey finds himself falling back a little, just watching as Lyn-z pulls things from the fridge and has Gerard put on some music. 

He notices Gerard’s hands shake as he pulls something from the shelf and there’s a hitch to his breath every so often, which Mikey knows means his anxiety is still bothering him. But, for the most part, he’s okay.

He laughs when Lyn-z exits out of the recipe on her phone by accident. Smiles when a song he likes comes on over the little speaker on the counter.

Mikey’s content with just standing in the doorway. Unable to wipe the smile from his face as he witnesses just how far Gerard has come.

__________________________________

The first thing Frank does when Ray leaves is throw himself dramatically back down onto the ground.

He groans and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until colors start to explode behind his eyelids. He feels like absolute _shit_ but now that he’s not running the risk of bleeding out any time soon, he knows that he has to get back to work. If he doesn’t, Hell might get suspicious.

It’s stupid how he already misses Ray. He hasn’t been gone five _minutes_.

He briefly wonders how much trouble he’d get into if he made a portal and just went home. Getting a good, long nap in his bed sounds fucking _amazing_ right now. But, for one, he’s always been shit at making portals. Healing magic and shifting into his other form? He can do that for days. Portals, not so much.

And besides, he’d probably get found out instantly. He’s already in trouble so there’s no telling what his punishment would be if he ran from his assignment. 

Frank groans audibly and sits up. A gust of wind blows, tearing some of the leaves from the trees and sending them flying through the air. He shivers uncomfortably.

But then he glances down and discovers that he’s still sitting on Ray’s jacket. It kept him warm last night, helped him heal. That, and the couple of times where he woke just long enough to register that Ray was lying next to him to share body heat. He tries to not dwell on the fact that Ray probably saved his life twice last night. 

Once from the injuries he got fighting that overgrown mutt and then again by keeping him from freezing to death.

And, knowing Ray, he probably left his jacket on purpose. Frank sends him a small tendril of his thankfulness as he pulls the jacket on. It’s warm from where he slept on it and keeps the worst of the wind from cutting through his clothes.

Ray’s response is a brief flash of a smile, something easily passed through their distance. 

The connection fades a moment later but Frank shrugs off the pang of loneliness that hits him. He has shit he has to do and he can’t afford to distract Ray either. Not while he’s going to be fighting for Frank’s name. 

So, Frank stands with a grunt. He’s still sore and when he twists his torso to glance at the trees behind him he can feel the twinge of pain where the deepest cut was. But, for the most part, he’s okay. If a bit tired.

Definitely hungry.

Before he can try again with his next person, he needs to get some food. And, what better place than that little coffee shop where he met Gerard? 

Maybe they can talk again.

Frank finds himself hoping that Gerard’s having a good day. That the asshole from the day before hasn’t come back. 

Gerard’s too sweet to have to deal with jerks like that guy being mean to him. His smile is too cute to be replaced by that look of heartbreak he had when Frank met him.

Wait-

What the _fuck_?

Frank does _not_ think a human is cute. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Fuck. Okay. 

So, he can compromise. Gerard’s not… ugly. He just has a nice face?

Yeah. That's what it is. 

Gerard has an anatomically pleasant face to look at and Frank’s just observing that fact. It means nothing that he can still see the soft little smile Gerard gave him yesterday. And his stomach definitely doesn’t do that weird flutter-y thing every time he pictures the way Gerard’s face lit up when he complimented him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is mainly still gonna be Frank and Gerard's pov. But I wanted to expand a bit and show how Ray and Mikey take care of their respective idiots.   
> They'll probably be more of Ray and Mikey's pov in the next few chapters because I have some things I want to explore in that area. No spoilers haha
> 
> So, yeah. Lyn-z finally knows more about Gerard's past. Gerard realized that he can trust her enough to share a little of what happened. Mikey could probably use some time to de-stress. Frank has someone who's throwing his name under the bus behind his back. And Ray deserves an award for the crap he puts up with Frank, just saying.  
> Let me know what you think?


	5. But You'll Never Fight Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *talk of blood/ injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This chapter is moving us right along with the plot and I, for once, have an actual outline for this fic. There's going to be 13 total chapters, plus the two-shot that I wrote back in October that takes place After this story line. The two-shot is going to act as an epilogue of sorts. But that's a good 13 chapters away, we have a long way to go until then haha  
> Huge thank you to i-like-to-wander-around-here for her constant support and advice for this fic!! She's amazing and this wouldn't be half as good if it weren't for her help!  
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (Chapter title is from The World Is Ugly by My Chem. bc i'm a sucker for Conventional Weapons, okay?)

The first thing Frank notices when he gets to the coffee shop, is the distinct lack of Gerard.

He doesn’t go inside, just stands there by the window and watches a middle-aged man work behind the counter. 

There’s a little pang of hurt in his chest when he realizes that Gerard’s probably not working today. That he’s not going to be able to see him again.

He tells himself that he is just upset because he doesn’t have actual money and was counting on Gerard giving him something for free again. It’s definitely not because he’d been genuinely looking forward to seeing him. Nope. 

That’d be dumb.

But even so, Frank needs to get _something_ to eat. He’s lightheaded from the walk here and if he wants to actually do his job on Margaret Williams at all today, he needs to be at his best.

So. Either he’s going to have to try and charm the guy behind the counter into giving him free food. Or, he’s going to have to take some without anyone noticing.

Which will be difficult. Seeing as Frank sort of has no clue what he’s doing.

His stomach growls, loud and annoying, and he huffs. 

Stealing it is. 

The only question is how he’s going to pull this off. The shop is pretty full, with a decent number of people scattered around. Most are at tables, enjoying their coffees and working on everything from textbooks to computers. There’s only one employee, the guy behind the counter.

But he wouldn’t be able to just sneak behind the counter and take something… not in human form that is. So, he _could_ theoretically shift into his other form and phase right through the door. No one would see him and he’d be in and out before anyone even noticed anything was missing. Right?

The only problem with that is the fact that he’s not back to full strength yet. But, getting food would probably cancel out whatever energy he spends doing such a feat of magic while here on Earth. Right?

He shrugs to himself. It’s a good plan, likely the best he’s going to get. So, he might as well try.

Closing his eyes, Frank tries to let the bustle of sound around him fade to the background of his mind. To ignore the car engines and the low hum of people chattering on the sidewalk around him.

He fades quickly into his other form, just a wispy sort of black smoke. A hurried glance around him proves that no one on the street noticed his change, even though he didn’t exactly do much to hide it. Which, next time- if there is a next time- he should be more careful. Ray would _murder_ him if he ended up exposing the truth about demons to humans. He’d never hear the end of it. 

With very little effort, Frank is able to pass through the shop’s door and float towards the employee area. He wouldn't call it flying exactly, more like he’s just sort of drifting in the direction that he wants to go. No one can see him in this form and he feels a strange, cold feeling whenever he passes through a human.

But, at last, he’s behind the counter. The worker doesn’t even notice him as Frank moves into the little attached kitchen.

Frank doesn’t take the time to look around. The second he spots a strange cabinet-thing with a glass door, he rushes over to it. Each of it’s shelves are full of pastries and treats. Without a moment’s pause, Frank sticks his hand through the glass. He grabs a handful of something- maybe muffins?- before retracting his hand and glancing around nervously. But it seems like no one has caught on yet, thankfully. 

Frank lets out a small huff of relief but he doesn’t allow himself to celebrate yet. He has to get out of here with the food first. 

It takes some concentration but it’s fairly effortless to make the food disappear too. When he glances down to the treats in his arms, they appear wispy and transparent just like he is. With some luck, none of the humans will be able to see that he’s carrying them out right under their noses. Either that, or it’ll look like the food is floating out of the shop on it’s own. But, he’ll deal with that problem if and when it arises.

With a quick deep breath, Frank eases out of the kitchen. He barely glances to the worker behind the counter, or the people in line. He keeps his eyes on the door and his attention on keeping himself, and the food, in this form. 

It feels like 10 years later, but it can’t have been any more than 30 seconds, before he finds himself on the other side of the doors. He doesn’t allow himself to change back yet, rushing down the sidewalk until he gets to the alley between this building and the next. 

Frank phases back into physical form and leans heavily against the brick wall behind him. He breathes roughly for a few long moments but there’s a grin on his face that he can’t help. 

His plan worked!

He got food and he didn’t get caught! _Fuck yeah_.

He’s still smiling as he shoves the first muffin-thing into his mouth. It’s slightly warm and tastes of chocolate. He moans in happiness and takes a chunk out of another. There’s little bits of chocolate chips inside, he thinks. They melt against his tongue.

The next three muffins go just as quickly and Frank’s hunger is finally sated. He lets out a contented sigh and runs a hand through his long hair. 

Okay so muffins are now his favorite food. There’s no way they only tasted that good because he was starving. Those shits have got to have like- magic of their _own_ ,or something.

He wonders if Gerard made them? If he worked for hours to bake something Frank just inhaled in less than a minute. Something that he stole?

Frank shakes that thought from his head. He was starving. He needed the food. It’s not like he stole it just to steal, right? 

Right.

He glances down at his arm and pulls up the sleeve of Ray’s jacket. The name burned into his skin is a dark red, insisting that he get back to his job and stop fooling around. But the first name has healed completely. So, at least he won’t have a mess of names on his skin by the end of this. That’s a good thing.

Frank pushes himself off the wall and wipes his hands on his pants. He feels a lot better, thankfully, but he knows there’s no more delaying his job.

He looks down at his arm again and turns ever so slightly to the right. No pain.

He turns a little more, then further until he’s facing the wall that was behind him. A faint, itching burning sensation tingles up his arm. When he turns just a little further, the sensation grows. 

Margaret Williams is that way.

He’s almost glad for the weird way this name on his arm-thing is working. Because he’d managed to find her the other day on pure accident, but the chances of him being able to retrace his steps are slim.

He sighs but starts walking anyway. Might as well get this over with.

_____________________________

“Dude,” Mikey says slowly. “You’re _sure_?”

Gerard fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sure. I’ll be fine and you need to go do something fun.”

“But-”

“Gee’s right you know,” Lyn-z interrupts, arms crossed over her chest with a smug expression.

Mikey sighs but relents, accepting the jacket Gerard has been holding out for him.

“I know,” Mikey says under his breath.

Gerard is, honestly, surprised he’s managed to convince Mikey to go to the show at all. Even after he’s assured him all freaking _day_ that he’s fine now. 

And Gerard gets it. He understands and can appreciate Mikey’s concern. He just, also wants Mikey to know that he _can_ do things on his own.

Gerard can manage three whole hours of Mikey not being home. He’ll be fine.

“Good,” Lyn-z says with a smile, clapping her hands together and all but dragging Mikey towards the door. “Let’s go. I don’t wanna miss anything.”

She moves fast, yanking out her car keys and flinging the door open before Mikey can protest any more. As the door shuts behind them and Gerard listens to them drive off, he can’t stop the smile that worms it’s way onto his face.

He hasn’t had an actual evening to himself in… fuck- he doesn’t even _know_ how long.

There’s so much he wants to do that there’s no way he’s going to be able to fit it all in. Too many options to choose from and too little time.

First things first though, coffee.

He trudges unhurriedly into the kitchen.

It’s not quite dark yet but the small window by the sink offers very little light. The walls are a lovely shade of mud brown so the overhead lights make it rather dingy. But Gerard doesn’t mind. He grew up in this house. Knows it by heart.

Knows that if you step close to the cabinets, the floor won’t creak as bad. Can tell who’s walking through the house just by their footsteps. He can tell if the porch light is on just by glancing out the kitchen window to see if the light is reflecting off the leaves of the old oak tree outside.

The glow in the dark stars that Gerard helped to put on the ceiling in Mikey’s room. They’re still there, a bit faded with age but he knows Mikey still stares up at them when he can’t sleep. How he knows without looking that his and Mikey’s initials are carved on the underside of their kitchen table.

Their parents don’t know they did that and, even though they’re both grown, they’d probably get in trouble if they ever found out. Just like if they found that when Gerard was 16 he decided to paint the inside of his closet to look like the night sky at three am.

He’s had so many memories in this house. So much of his life can be pinpointed to physical things here.

Just barely, Gerard remembers being all of three years old, sitting on the couch with his parents. His mom had put his hand on her belly and told him he was going to be an older brother. It’s the same couch they watched movies on on Friday.

Remembers being 10 and pushing Mikey down the stairs because he kept insisting to play in Gerard’s room. 

He laughs out loud at that memory. At how much trouble he got in. How Mikey wouldn’t talk to him for like a month after. He’d felt so bad, especially when Mikey had to go get his arm put in that ugly ass cast.

They made up, of course they did. He can never stay mad at Mikey for long and he knows his brother is the same way. They just… click. They get each other so well that any fight or argument is resolved in hardly any time at all.

Gerard notices his coffee is done and goes through the motions of adding in the creamer, hardly paying attention as he tries desperately to think of what to do with his free time. 

See, the problem is that recently most of his time has been spent with Mikey.

They wake up together, go to work at the same time, have lunch together, spend their evenings on the couch. Gerard hasn’t actually done something _without_ Mikey in like, _years._

He could literally do whatever he wanted. And that is the kind of freedom he probably shouldn’t have. He’s impulsive, okay?

So, all that’s running through his head is things like dying his hair. Going to Walmart to walk around for two hours. Going to the animal shelter like he’s been planning on doing but has put off because he knows that the second he sees a cute animal, he’s going to take it home. Maybe he could see a movie? Or just… go on a walk?

He wants to do all of those things, even though the logical part of him knows that it won’t be as stress free as his impulse says it is. Walmart- and the public in general- is terrifying. He had a panic attack yesterday, so he really shouldn’t be testing his anxiety like that. Especially if Mikey isn’t with him to act as a sort of buffer.

So. Walmart, the movie, and the shelter are out. Though, he does sort of want to dye his hair. That can be something he and Mikey do next weekend, he decides. 

A walk doesn’t sound too bad. He could just like- go around the block or whatever. Get some fresh air like his mom always asks him to do. And he can bring his headphones too. 

He used to go on walks all the time when he was younger, especially when it was late and he couldn’t sleep.

Smiling now that he has a plan, Gerard quickly heads back to his room. As much as he enjoys walking around in his pajamas all day, it’s too cold for him to go outside dressed like that. He makes sure to layer up and even shoves a beanie in his jacket pocket just in case. Even though he decides fuck it, and ties his hair up into a messy bun. Letting little strands of greasy black hair fall around his face.

He takes a quick glance in the mirror. There’s eyeliner still on his eyes from yesterday, smudged to hell and barely visible. It makes him look kinda dead but it goes well with his hair up like this. So he leaves it. 

His jacket smells a bit, even he can admit to that, but it’s not like he’s planning on talking to people or anything. So he leaves that too.

For once, he actually doesn’t mind how he looks. Like, he would almost say he looks… _good_. In the local hermit who never goes outside sort of way.

He doesn’t focus on it for long, because if he does his mind will find _something_ to scrutinize. But yeah. 

He looks… nice.

Grabbing his bag and making sure his phone is in his pocket, Gerard snags his headphones and makes his way back upstairs. He grabs his coffee too, pouring it into a travel mug so it doesn’t go to waste. Then, he sends Mikey a quick text explaining that he’s heading out before grabbing his keys and stepping out into the cool October air.

It’s much darker now and the only light comes from the orange glow of street lamps. Most people probably don’t feel at home when they look out on a dark, deserted Jersey street. But Gerard does.

The danger of it is half the fun, right?

He walks leisurely down the sidewalk, music pouring through his headphones and his bag bumping his hip with each step. And, seriously, he doesn’t feel in danger here. He probably should, seeing as people get killed all the time. But this place just feels like home. Dirt and garbage and crazy people included.

He’s not sure how he could have ever convinced himself that he wanted to leave. Why he thought the city was a place for him. It was nice yeah, having all of those things to do. All of those people to see and opportunities to take. But it’s never as perfect as the picture in your head makes it out to be. Not to mention that he got mugged more in New York than he ever has here. 

And maybe it’s just him associating bad memories to a physical place, since he wasn’t exactly happy here either before.

Gerard takes a deep breath, letting the cold bite of the air sit in his lungs before he exhales. His fingers are cold and the darkness lies heavy just beyond the weak glow of the streetlamps. But he thinks, maybe, he can be actually happy here now.

He hopes so. Hopes that he’ll get there. 

The song on his phone changes to something heavier and he bobs his head along to the beat, shoving his hands into his pockets to try and keep in some warmth. His feet are leading him on their own accord, turning right at the end of his street and taking him down the next row of houses. Most of the lights are on, seeing as it’s not actually that late in the evening. Some people in this neighborhood have their Halloween decorations up, lighting up their porches and windows with shining purple and black lights. The pavement shines from the rain the previous day and Gerard can’t help but think.

He thinks about springtime. How people usually associate it with new growth, with new beginnings. Hope. Maybe it’s because he’s just a horror nerd or he’s read too many books about vampires as a kid but Gerard feels like autumn is _his_ new beginning of sorts. 

It’s almost like things are finally settling. Like he’s been shuffling around, getting out of hard situations and working to put things into place. To set things into motion. And now, here he is. 

Alive. Surrounded by a supporting brother and a close friend. Able to just exist in this moment. To walk down this quiet road and admire the shadowy outlines of the trees as they shake in the breeze. 

It’s a good feeling. One he tries to memorize, to make the most of. 

~~He doesn’t even notice the pair of beady green eyes hiding behind a trash can.~~

Gerard can remember, back in high school, how all the other kids in his grade were getting cars and going to parties. Meanwhile, he’d walk home from school with Mikey. Every day, without fail.

Sometimes they’d stop by the corner store and stock up on junk, wasting their allowance on monster drinks and Doritos like the teenage boys they were. As they got older, Mikey started taking rides with his friends. And Gerard didn’t mind exactly. He can remember being glad that Mikey had friends to begin with.

But on those evenings where he would walk home alone, Gerard would sometimes find himself in the old park between his house and the high school. It’s an ancient thing, probably considered old when his parents were kids. But he would sit on the rickety swing set and chain smoke until dark. Drawing or reading and doing his best to ignore the world that lied beyond the rusted metal gate.

The memories aren’t exactly happy. He was so lonely back then. But, in comparison to everything else, Gerard almost wishes he could go back to that time. Tell his younger self to steer clear of pretty boys with soft blue eyes. 

But, 17 year old him probably would just tell 23 year old him to fuck off. Flick a cigarette at him or something.

He snorts at the thought.

He kind of wants to see if the park is even there anymore. It’s been years and maybe the state finally got around to cleaning the area up. Gerard doubts it, seeing as he has to sidestep a hole in the sidewalk that’s been there since he was a toddler.

It wouldn’t hurt, he decides. To check out the park and sit on the swings again if he can. For old times sake.

____________________________________________

Ray’s life is fucking _weird_.

Just, hear him out. Not only has he managed to befriend the absolute clusterfuck that is Frank Iero, but he also is helplessly _attached_ to the little fucker.

He loves him to death. Which, is probably going to come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later.

He was already pissed when he heard about the assignment Frank was being sent on, infuriated by the fact that He would doubt Frank’s loyalty. But seeing him last night, laying there in a pool of his own fucking _blood_?

It’d ignited something in Ray. A need to protect Frank, to keep him safe. 

Frank is his _best friend_ , practically his little brother. So Ray _knows_ him. Knows how kind he is and how, underneath the resting bitch face, he’s such a big kid. 

And he knows that while Frank won’t be employee of the month or anything any time soon, he also does take his job seriously. Has never really doubted the rules or talked back. He minds his own business and, for the most part, stays out of trouble.

So, really, it’s no surprise that Ray would go around and try and get some dirt on whoever is spreading rumors. But, what _is_ a surprise is that Ray’s going so far as to eavesdrop into a private meeting.

Physically, Ray’s sitting on his bed, cross legged and with candles surrounding him. Burning in black flame. But, his other form has been, in a sense, separated from his physical form. It’s a hard spell, one that he shouldn’t know how to do.

He chalks it up to spending too much time with Frank. He’s bound to accidentally soak up some of the _i really shouldn’t be doing this but i’m gonna do it anyway_ energy that Frank seems to radiate.

Ray’s other form is currently floating above the main meeting hall, watching like a fly on the wall as He is briefed on the day’s most important news. Mostly it’s boring stuff. Like how many new souls have been brought in. Which teams are doing the best at conversion. All that jazz.

Ray’s honestly getting bored. He can’t hold this form much longer, another 20 minutes at most. Especially after healing Frank last night. But he grinds his teeth together and forces himself to keep a hold on the spell. 

He has to find out what’s going on. Frank’s entire reputation is at stake here and after everything he’s been through, Ray can’t just let it be shattered like this. 

It’s right before he’s about to let the spell go. The door to the meeting hall opens and a page squeaks out a meek announcement that there’s news. With a flick of His wrist, He waves whoever it is inside.

Ray practically sees red when he realizes who it is. 

_Bob_. 

The piece of shit who has his head stuck so far up the Devil’s ass that he can’t see straight. The fucker who almost killed Frank.

A part of Ray wants to storm into the room, to punch Bob right in his stupid face. Because what he put Frank through, how _long_ it took Frank to get to where he is. Fuck, Ray should have killed Bob the _second_ he ripped out Frank’s fucking horns. 

But, the logical part of him knows that the only way to keep himself and Frank safe was to get revenge in the legal way. Even though Bob has His favor, so his punishment barely surmounted to what Frank suffered. 

And, yeah. Maybe Ray’s still a _bit_ bitter that the fucker got off so easily. But that doesn’t mean he can act on his anger right now. Bob has, thankfully, left Frank and him completely alone since then. So, Ray has no jurisdiction to start a fight right now. No matter how much he wants to.

He tunes back into the conversation when Bob starts talking about some influx of souls that’s supposed to be coming in soon. Apparently there’s been some sort of natural disaster. But it’s not important so Ray lets himself fade back into his own body. The candles flicker out as if a gust of wind has torn through the room and he falls back onto his pillows with a groan.

He’s exhausted and his head hurts and he _still_ isn’t any farther along with figuring out who’s spreading lies. And, to top it all off, his anger with Bob is resurfacing.

Seeing Frank last night was a lot similar to how he found him after his fight with Bob. 

He’s honestly kind of proud of the kid. Bob’s not exactly a small demon and he’s well known for his strength, his ruthlessness. But Frank bested him. Barely.

Same for the ghoul. Ray has heard horror stories from some of the older demons about those creatures. He’s pretty sure he knows someone on the council who fought one and lost. The entire side of that demon’s face is gone. 

He shivers at the thought of how lucky Frank got the other night.

He’s gotten lucky twice now and Ray doesn’t like to think of the chances of him getting lucky a third time. Who _knows_ what fucked up shit Hell is willing to do to try and expose him. 

If ghouls are the first thing they throw at Frank, what would be _off_ the table?

Ray brings a shaking hand up to run through his hair, twisting the curls between his fingers and trying to keep his thoughts from running wild. He rubs his thumb over his horn, feeling the familiar rough texture. 

They’re nearly as long as his forearm now and almost as thick. He’s pleased to find that they’re beginning to curl and one day, when he’s much older, they may be as intricate as some of the ancient demons he’s seen on occasion.

He decides, as his eyes flutter on their own accord, that a nap may be in order. Then he can get back to work.

____________________________________________________________________

Frank ends the call with the demon he’s reporting to as he steps out onto the sidewalk. 

Margaret wasn’t too hard to investigate. That is, when there _isn’t_ a bloodthirsty rabid dog-thing after Frank’s skin. _Shocker_.

So, without any ghouls in his way, it was a pretty in and out sort of job. Even though it took like, half an hour to get the demon he’s reporting to to answer his fucking call. _Motherfucker_.

His forearm is already burning with the next name but Frank has to wait until he’s under a street lamp to read it.

He sighs a little to himself. There’s hardly any time in between the humans he has to investigate. And it’s already feeling like the next names are showing up quicker than before.

At least he hasn’t had to throw any demons under the bus yet. So far, both of the humans he’s visited have been properly influenced by Hell in one way or another.

He sort of dreads that moment, if and when it comes. When he has to get another demon in trouble. It’s not like he cares, exactly. More so that he’s not looking forward to how that demon will react when Frank sees them again. He’d rather avoid getting into fights, thanks very much.

Frank lets his mind wander as he makes his way through unfamiliar streets towards the next person.

He doesn’t mean to exactly, but his thoughts somehow end up on Ray.

On how he’s going to prove someone is spreading lies. It’s not like there’s probably going to be any definite proof. More likely, it’s going to be Ray and Frank’s word against the other demon’s. And that, depending on His mood, can end very badly.

Frank really doesn’t want to know what sort of punishment will be in store for him if it's determined that he is a traitor. For whatever reason.

Would they take his horns?

Hesitantly, he lifts his hand to his hair. If he concentrates, he can pretend to feel where his horns would be. They were sort of small still, smooth and about the length of his hand. He’s not quite sure if his horns are just… camouflaged or something, or if they’re actually gone until he goes back. Both options make him sick to his stomach though, so he tries to not dwell on it.

And then, somehow, his thoughts drift towards Gerard.

Would it be weird if he stopped by the shop tomorrow? Just to see if Gerard is working. Something in him is telling him to check on him. Make sure he’s alright. Ensure that no other assholes have hurt him.

Frank feels a strange, but not unwelcome, anger at the thought. He’s not sure why he feels the need to make sure Gerard is okay, he barely knows the guy! But he does. 

So, it’s settled, he decides. Tomorrow, after he investigates this next person, he’ll stop by the shop. Make sure Gerard is happy. Maybe get him to smile again.

___________________________________________________________________

The next day is… surprisingly normal.

Gerard wakes up, has his morning coffee with Mikey, and goes into work only slightly behind schedule.

The air is really cold today, enough that Gerard risks getting in trouble to turn up the heat. He shivers and waits in front of the vent until he feels the first puff of warm air. The shop is still dark, the door locked, and Gerard takes a moment to savor the warmth of the heating. 

Hopefully the cold will keep most of the customers away. He’s feeling good right now but he’s not really sure he’d be able to deal with another asshole like on Saturday.

When he can’t stall anymore, he steps away from the vent on the wall and goes back into the kitchen area. The morning bakes are all done and cooling on their racks in the glass holding cabinet.

Gerard hums as he takes an assortment of different treats- some muffins, a few cookies, a cupcake or two- and brings them out to the display case. Carefully he arranges them and makes sure none are smushed or broken. The coffee he’s made for himself is cooling on the counter by the register, it’s scent mixing with the sweet smell of the baked goods. 

He refills the wax paper dispenser as well and does a quick sweep around the shop with his eyes, going down his mental checklist to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything.

When he’s certain everything is in order, Gerard goes over to the door and unlocks it. He flicks the lights on and glances out at the deserted sidewalk. It’s far too early, and too cold, for a lot of people to be out today.

Thankfully, he brought some stuff to keep him busy. The newest book he’s reading- a murder mystery that Mikey highly recommended- is in his bag, as well as his pencil case. He’s mostly finished with his character designs for Mikey, all that’s left is for them to compare and pick one. Which is the plan for their lunch break today.

But he still might work on some other stuff. Maybe like, a comic or something. He could probably get the basics of a simple comic down today, if it proves to be slow enough.

\------------------------

A little while later, Gerard stands behind the counter with his head resting in his hand. His free hand is busy creating a rough sketch of a character because he was right, it’s more than slow enough for him to get the beginnings of a comic going. 

He has an idea and everything. Of a kid trying to get through high school while also fighting vampires in his free time. Sorta like Buffy. But also, not? He’s not quite sure yet, but he’s only just started. So he has time to iron out details and everything.

He’s busy trying to figure out how the kid’s hair would look when the door chime goes off. He looks up at the noise and nearly drops his pencil.

Frank hurries in, cheeks pink from the cold and hair wild from the wind. Gerard’s stomach does a flip and he has to force himself to not stare as Frank shuffles up to the counter.

“Hey,” he says brightly, giving Gerard a soft smile. 

When Gerard can’t get his words out in time, Frank’s eyes flick down to the sketches laying on the counter. Gerard panics a bit and rushes to close the book and shove it under the counter. He’s certain he looks insane and he’s waiting for Frank to just leave. But, to his surprise, he just looks amused.

“I uh, didn’t mean to look. But is that your art?”

Gerard nods, his mind going too fast for him to be able to form an actual sentence. Fuck, he’s not _this_ bad at talking to people, is he?

There’s something else there though, a feeling in his gut that he’d nearly forgotten could exist. And he’s trying his best to ignore it. Because he’s spoken to Frank literally twice, he shouldn’t be crushing.

It’s stupid and you’d think Gerard would have learned his lesson after being burned before. But, just like a stupid fucking toddler, he’s dumb enough to debate putting his hand back on the hot burner.

Fuck.

“I like it,” Frank continues, his smile soft and maybe even a little nervous. “It looked cool.”

Gerard’s face is burning, he’s sure of it. 

Frank likes his art? His shitty sketch that he’s erased 15 fucking times already?

“Thanks,” Gerard says lamely, tugging at his sleeves until he can fiddle with the ends properly.

“Um. How come this place is so deserted?”

Gerard takes a look around. The shop is completely empty save for the two of them and there’s hardly anyone outside either. Most people are inside, away from the cold. It’s too early in the fall for them to get cabin fever.

“Um. Normally when it first gets really cold like this, people stay in. They get used to it eventually. By December there can be a snowstorm outside and this place’ll be packed.”

Gerard shivers just from the thought. He loves the snow, don’t get him wrong. But he hates having to walk through it to get to work.

“I can’t imagine it getting colder than this,” Frank remarks, shaking his head. 

Gerard wonders where Frank is from. He doesn't seem to be at all used to the cold but he doesn’t have a west coast accent or anything. Or a foreign one. Not that he can tell, anyway. 

He’s curious, but not enough that he’d just ask.

“I kinda like the cold,” Gerard decides on saying, wincing from his own awkwardness. 

But it is the truth. He does love the fall months more than the summer ones. It’s easier to bundle up when it’s cold than it is to shed layers when it’s too hot.

“So,” Frank begins, glancing behind him like he’s looking out the windows. “Can I ask a dumb question?” 

Gerard motions for him to continue and takes a sip of his coffee so that he doesn’t accidentally say anything else stupid. 

“What’s all the decorations and stuff for?”

“Decorations?” Gerard asks, glancing out where Frank had looked to try and figure out what he means. “You mean like the Halloween stuff?”

Frank nods earnestly. 

Fuck this dude is weird. Not only is he shit at dressing for the weather but he also doesn’t know what _Halloween_ is?

“It’s for Halloween,” Gerard begins slowly, trying not to act shocked. “Like, October 31st?”

Frank’s face scrunches like he’s thinking and he tucks a strand of long hair behind his ear. Gerard’s breath catches at the ink he’s just now noticing. It covers Frank’s hand, dozens of tattoos all over the top of his hand and knuckles. There’s a peak of more ink hidden underneath his sleeve.

Feeling a bit warm, Gerard unzips his jacket and tries to act like he wasn’t just staring at Frank’s hands like a creep. He just appreciates art, okay? That’s all.

“Oh,” Frank says suddenly, but gently. “Like All Hallows Eve, right?”

So Frank knows _that_ holiday but not Halloween? 

How does Gerard manage to find such weird people?

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “But like, the modern version of it. With costumes and stuff. Less warding off evil spirits and more candy.”

“That sounds cool,” Frank says excitedly, like a little kid getting to pickout their costume. “Does everyone celebrate it?”

“Uh. Sorta. Some people don’t because they believe in different things and other people just see it as a childish sort of thing. And while, over the years it has been steadily marketed towards kids more and more, that’s only because of the commercialization of the holiday. Companies just want to profit off of candy and costume sales. Adults are often frowned on if they try and trick-or-treat and, in some states, it’s actually illegal to go trick or treating after a certain age. And so it’s honestly lost most of its ties to the old pagan roots and uh…”

Gerard trails off, suddenly realizing he’s been rambling. 

God he’s such a fucking weirdo. Frank didn’t even know the holiday _existed_ five minutes ago and Gerard’s already started going full art school nerd about it.

“So, kids dress up and get candy?” Frank asks, like the idea is interesting. “That sounds fun as hell. But why can’t adults?” Frank shakes his head. “That’s bullshit”

Gerard smiles wide, amazed and happy that he didn’t scare Frank off. Does that mean he was actually listening to what Gerard was saying?

“Yeah, exactly! I used to go with my little brother well after I was too old to go on my own. Because I mostly just wanted the candy and it’s always so much fun to design your own costume, you know?”

Frank agrees, like he knows exactly what Gerard means. And, somehow, the two of them end up sitting down in one of the booths by the window. A coffee in each of their hands forgotten as they both get lost in conversation.

Gerard finds himself rambling again, telling Frank about Halloweens when he was little. How he and Mikey used to do themed matching costumes. How Mikey would pretend to cry so they could get more candy. The way Gerard still remembers which houses would give out full sized candy bars and not those tiny little fuckers that only serve to piss you off.

And maybe the most surprising part is that Frank _listens_. Gladly. He sits there and just, lets Gerard talk. Lets him talk about carving pumpkins and eventually, on the themed short film he and Mikey are working on.

And it’s nuts. It’s insane that this _stranger_ is listening to him talk about random shit like this. As terrifying as it is to know that he’s possibly making a friend right now, it’s also such a good feeling. It makes his chest light and his lips form an almost constant smile.

He doesn’t want to question it. So, he doesn’t. He pushes down every little spike of anxiety that rises whenever he fears he’s said something stupid. But, Frank always just seems so _interested_. Like, he listens with his elbows on the table. An easy expression on his face, like he’s watching his favorite movie.

Gerard tries to not over think it and simply lets himself get lost in conversation as Frank asks what a horror movie is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so Frank and Gee are slowly becoming friends. Frank's doing his job, albeit somewhat passive aggressively. And Ray's working hard to get to the bottom of the whole traitor mess. Good times.  
> Also, Bob. Yeah. He's in this one. Can't forget about him. (evil laughs)  
> I'd love to hear any thoughts/comments you guys have on this! Thank you all for reading!  
> <3


	6. To Keep on Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * panic attacks  
> * violent/ gore (but someone's just thinking it. nothing happens)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hope you're all doing well <3  
> Sorry this one's a little late. I've been busy doing adulting stuff and I can't really say if the updating schedule is gonna stay consistent. I'm going to be moving soon and starting an overnight job, so sorry in advance for whatever craziness is sure to come.  
> As always, thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for her help editing and just letting me rant about this fic and it's characters all the time!! <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Famous Last Words by My chem. Yes i know it's one of the most overused lyrics, other than like wttbp, but i really liked it for this chapter. and that song is amazing*

Gerard finds himself sliding into something of a routine.

He wakes up, goes to work, muddles through the day, deals with shitty customers while debating why he keeps coming back to this shitty fucking job. And then, just when Gerard’s seriously considering walking out, Frank comes in.

Most of the time this week, he’s shown up in the evening, right before Lyn-z comes in for her shift. He used to come in rather early, just after the morning rush, but Gerard can’t bring himself to dislike the shift in the schedule they’ve made. He appreciates the welcome distraction from his last couple hours of work that Frank offers.

But he can’t help but be a little worried. 

Frank has seemed so tired lately and there’s been a couple of days now in a row where he’s just been frustrated and won’t tell Gerard why. Gerard is honestly beginning to wonder what kind of job Frank could possibly have that would make him so miserable. 

There’s also the possibility of him still being in school. He’s short enough to be a highschooler, anyway. But Gerard pushes that thought away every time it comes up. If Frank were still in school, then there’s no _way_ he’d be able to have this much freedom and spare time to stop by the shop to visit Gerard. Right?

Either way, despite whatever reason Frank has to be able to visit daily, Gerard doesn’t want to question it. Because he’s starting to look forward to seeing him walk through the front door. Even when Gerard finds himself too busy to sit down and talk, Frank will just hang out in the store to keep him company. Smile at him occasionally. It’s nice. Having a friend.

Maybe he just gets attached way too quickly but Frank is really growing on him. 

Because he listens to Gerard go off on tilts about random nerdy things that no one else cares about, lets him complain about his day. And he seems to _genuinely_ enjoy talking to Gerard. 

Frank always asks Gerard how he is, even though Gerard hasn’t been able to tell him _everything_ just yet. And he’s been the only reason on a few days this week where Gerard hasn’t gone home early because of his anxiety or rude customers. 

But, Gerard realizes, he doesn’t know much about Frank. Or… anything about him, really.

He doesn’t know his age, or his last name. Where he works or why he moved here.

Fuck, the most Gerard knows about him is that he’s probably a really, really sheltered kid. Like, who _else_ wouldn’t know what Halloween and horror movies are?

Or would make a weird face whenever someone said the word ‘hell’ as a curse. He’s probably from one of those extremely religious families where Harry Potter is considered the embodiment of sin or some shit.

Which is sorta ironic. Considering the sheer number of tattoos covering Frank’s skin ( not that Gerard’s been staring at them or anything. And it’s most definitely not like he has pages upon pages in his sketchbook where he’s meticulously copied Frank’s tattoos. Nope. Not at all.)

And yet, it’s all so strange because Frank doesn’t feel like a closed off person. Gerard _is_ getting to know him. Even though he knows nothing concrete about him, he’s learning little things about him every time they talk.

Because he’s watched Frank get all wide eyed and curious when Gerard mentions something he isn’t familiar with. It’s a strong sort of curiosity where he’ll gladly sit there and let Gerard prattle on about why they use the espresso machine instead of a regular coffee pot.

And while Gerard doesn’t mind telling Frank all these things, he’s beginning to get more and more curious as to where Frank is from and why he’s obviously so sheltered.

He hasn’t brought these fears to Mikey yet. If they can even be called that.

The last thing he told Mikey about Frank was on the day Gerard first met him and he’s been too frightened to add anything else to that conversation. To risk Mikey pressuring him to get his number or _worse,_ invite him over.

And, yeah, Gerard _knows_ Mikey was just teasing the other night, that he _does_ care, but he really doesn’t want to risk his brother just… dismissing him like that again. It _hurt_. And while Mikey’s apologized and Gerard has already forgiven him, he can’t bring himself to talk about Frank yet.

And besides. What is there to talk about, anyway?

That Frank’s a regular customer who actually puts up with Gerard’s ramblings? That Gerard’s so unused to decent human kindness that he may or may not be slightly attached to Frank. How seeing Frank is one of the only highlights of his work day, exceeded only by when Mikey joins him for lunch. Really, there’s not much to talk about.

Gerard sighs to himself.

Today was one of his rough days. Nothing big happened, no yelling customers or assholes calling him slurs or anything. It was just… off. 

Last night he hadn’t been able to sleep, his head going too fast for him to relax enough to rest. And then, when he finally did get to sleep, he ended up oversleeping. Because of that he forgot his bag and only ended up getting one cup of coffee before he had to open the store. And after that it was just a stream of a bunch of little things that just kept adding up. 

The grounds weren’t emptied out of the machine last night so Gerard had to do it this morning, almost making him late to open the store because that’s a _night shift_ job. Then, one of the customers spilled like, five drinks that he’d _just_ made all over the floor. So he had to clean it up, re-make the whole order, and _then_ deal with the cranky people still waiting in line. 

He’d been a whole two minutes away from just going home and sleeping off his bad day. Then Frank walked in and Gerard had a reason to stay. 

If Gerard thinks about it though, the two of them actually didn’t talk much today.

Frank said hello, complimented him on his outfit, before giving him a tired but genuine smile and proceeding to curl up in a chair by the window. Gerard snuck him a muffin too, even though he’s really not supposed to give out free food to people other than family. But Frank had just looked so stressed and upset that Gerard couldn’t help it. 

It was another mysterious thing to add to the list, how Frank keeps managing to look more and more like shit with every day that passes. Now, Gerard doesn't want to be mean or anything but Frank seriously looks (and kinda smells) like he’s been sleeping in the dirt for the past week.

He wants to ask Frank what’s going on. But he’s too afraid.

What if Frank’s like… a runaway or something? What if he ran away from his insanely religious family and has been sleeping on the streets ever since? 

Fuck. That might explain why he’s so eager to learn about normal stuff and why he never seems to have a dollar to his name.

Or fuck. What if Frank’s in some sort of trouble and is running from the cops?

The sound of someone coming down the stairs pulls Gerard from his thoughts. 

“You up?” Mikey asks, unable to see Gerard from his position about halfway down the stairs.

Gerard knows that’s Mikey’s code for, you better not have your hand down your pants right now. 

Which, Gerard _doesn’t_ , thank you very much. He’d have at least locked the door first. He’s not _that_ much of an asshole.

He does take a quick glance around though. Just to be safe and make sure there’s nothing embarrassing within eyesight.

There’s the book Mikey recommended, open on his lap and full of paragraphs he hasn’t been able to concentrate enough to read. A half finished coffee cup sits on his nightstand that’s probably cold by now. Next to that lies his forgotten plate from dinner.

And it _was_ forgotten, not ignored. There’s a difference there. He’d just gotten distracted thinking about Frank and work and… and legitimately forgot. No big deal.

He debates chucking it in the trash so Mikey won’t worry, but quickly decides against it. That’d only be more suspicious. Grunting out an affirmative for Mikey to come in, Gerard glances down at his book and tries to remember where he left off. His brother will probably ask him about it, seeing as he’s gone on and on for the past week about how good of a read it was.

Once Mikey gets closer, he notices the book and his face breaks out into a wide grin just like Gerard knew it would.

“Oh, what part ‘re you at? There’s this really good bit about halfway through that I wanna talk to you about when you get there!”

“Uh,” Gerard glances down and tries again to remember the last part he read. “We found out that the barber wasn’t even in town the night the old lady was killed.”

Mikey’s face lights up and Gerard can see him trying desperately not to give anything away. He nods enthusiastically but keeps his mouth firmly closed. Though, he does kinda look like the words are about to explode out of his mouth and Gerard _really_ doesn’t want this one spoiled for him, so he quickly changes the topic. 

“Wanna watch somethin’?”

He waves his hand to the decently sized collection of dvd’s cluttered about his tv stand. Maybe binging Doctor Who or something would take his mind off of Frank and work. 

“Actually,” Mikey says, bumping Gerard’s foot to the side so he can sit on the edge of his bed. “I finished the setup for the first scene. Wanted ‘t know if you’d work the camera.”

Gerard makes a face and pretends to think on it.

“How much am I getting paid?”

Mikey huffs and swats at his foot in mild annoyance. 

“You’re getting paid in brotherly bonding time,” he says under his breath, barely hiding a smile through his pretend grumpiness.

Gerard rolls his eyes and makes a show of having to get up.

So _what_ if he’s ecstatic Mikey wants him to do the camera work? He’s gotta at least _pretend_ he’s not excited to spend the rest of his evening with his baby brother. Even when it’s either that, or spending his evening in bed eating cold leftovers and reading a murder mystery like he’s a housewife from the 90’s. His life isn’t exactly exciting. 

He follows Mikey up the stairs, squinting at the bright lights of the living room. It feels like every lamp in the house is on and it’s already giving him a headache. He and Mikey skirt around the edge of the room, making sure to not make any noise to disrupt whatever their dad is watching on tv. 

They find their mom in the kitchen, listening to a podcast about famous murders while she cleans up from dinner. When she notices them passing through she waves at them to stop and pauses the little speaker on the counter.

“Here, I found some cookie mix in the cabinet and you boys can be my taste testers!”

She wipes her hands on her jeans, smiling as she goes over to the oven. Gerard can smell the sweetness in the air, now that their mother mentions it, and his stomach grumbles. Mikey gives him a side look, one that doesn’t necessarily mean anything other than he heard the noise.

Again, he didn’t _mean_ to lose track of time and not eat dinner. But, even so, he feels a little sick at the thought of eating cookies as a _meal_. That’s so unhealthy.

When their mom opens the oven door the smell gets stronger, filling the kitchen with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies and giving him enough incentive to grab milk and some cups. 

He fills one and hands it to his brother before pouring his own, trying to avoid thinking about how many calories are in the milk.

As their mom is transferring the cookies from the pan to the metal cooling rack on the counter, Mikey wordlessly shuffles over to her. When she turns to grab another cookie from the pan, he quickly snatches one from the rack. By the time their mom turns back around the cookie is already stuffed in his mouth and he’s huffing out _hothothot_ through his mouthful.

She gives Mikey a knowing look, pointing the spatula at him so he knows she's not afraid to hit him with it. Gerard has to put a hand over his mouth to stop from laughing at the way Mikey’s eyes dart over to the rack again the second their mom turns around.

He’s just _asking_ to get slapped with the spatula. 

His hand sneaks overtop of another cookie, still steaming and probably too hot to eat, a look of concentration on his face as he glances over to their mom.

“Touch another cookie and I’ll give them all to Gee,” their mom says without turning around, scrapping at the edges of a cookie to get it off the pan.

Thoroughly scolded, Mikey sulks back over to where Gerard is standing by the stairs. They wait, somewhat patiently, until all of the cookies are on the rack and their mom deems them cool enough to eat.

Mikey quickly grabs three, dunking one in his milk before all but shoving it in his face. Their mom sighs, but she’s used to the bottomless pit that is her youngest son. 

Gerard on the other hand, stands over the rack trying to decide which one he wants. They all look delicious but it’s hard to choose, especially with all of the melty chocolate chips visible in them. The largest one is calling to him and it has the most chocolate chips. But, he also sorta wants the smallest. Seeing as his dinner _really_ shouldn’t be a cookie. Not that getting the small one would justify eating dinner too if he got hungry later.

No. He shakes his head at that.

It’s just a cookie. A stupid, delicious cookie. And he’s hungry. If he eats it and is still hungry afterwards, he should have dinner too. It’s _not_ one or the other.

He grabs a medium sized cookie and turns around to join Mikey now at the table. Both Mikey and his mom very quickly look away, telling him that they _were_ watching him. 

That stings a bit but he assures himself that they were just looking out for him. And besides, he thinks as he sits down next to Mikey- who’s already on his last cookie- he’s eating the stupid cookie, isn’t he? That’s gotta count for something.

“What’re you two sneaking around for?” their mother asks, turning back around to finish up the dishes while they eat.

“Makin’ th’ movie,” Mikey says around his mouthful of cookie.

“Oh, the vampire one, right?”

“Yeah. It’s due th’ 31’st so we gotta start filming,” Mikey tells her as he chugs the rest of his milk.

Gerard takes his first bite and smiles when he feels the warm cookie melt in his mouth. It’s really good. For a box mix. But it’s probably the thought that counts right? Even a box mix can taste good if the person baking it has good intentions or whatever.

And their mom, for all her awkwardness and faults, _does_ have good intentions when it comes to the two of them.

“You can take some up to your room,” their mom is saying to Mikey, waving a half cleaned fork as she talks. “A snack while you film.”

Mikey agrees quickly and starts rummaging around for a plate to put them on. Gerard laughs as he makes a face like a kicked puppy when he realizes the ones left over won’t all fit.

“Save some for your father,” their mother teases half-heartedly.

Mikey grumbles but leaves three cookies on the rack. 

Gerard takes the last bite, savoring it as he drinks the rest of his milk. It makes him feel like a little kid again. Eating cookies before he and Mikey go to play.

He stands and takes his cup over to the sink, purposefully rinsing it out and putting it in the drainer even though his mom is right there. He always feels bad for putting dishes in the sink when someone is washing dishes. That’s like- _not_ cool. She huffs in fond exasperation and Gerard kisses the top of her head as she pulls him in for a hug. 

Her hands are wet and soapy, but he really doesn’t mind. He leans into the hug for a moment, letting that sense of safe wash over him in the way it only does when his mother hugs him like this. Maybe it’s cheesy and stupid, but he does love his mother. A lot.

Mikey, the baby of the family, plops his cup right into the soapy water without rinsing it out. Their mom rolls her eyes but releases Gerard from his hug to wrap Mikey in one.

He squirms with arms pressed down awkwardly at his sides, a look of mild annoyance on his face. Their mom squeezes in retribution and he gives up, snaking his arms around her and finally hugging back.

A low growl comes from outside the window, making Gerard snap his head in that direction. It had almost sounded like some kind of dog. But that’s odd because they don’t have a dog and, as far as he knows, neither do their neighbors.

“Mom?” he asks, voice unnervingly calm. 

She lifts her head and pulls away from Mikey. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You hear that?”

She glances where he’s looking, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Hear what, Gee?” Mikey cuts in, taking a step forward.

Gerard shakes his head.

“Sounded like a dog growling. I- I dunno…”

“Oh,” their mother says with a light laugh. “The Weavers next door must’ve gotten a dog. I’ve been hearing it growling and barking all hours of th’ night for almost a week now. Really, you’d think they’d keep it in their yard at the least.”

“Yeah…” he mumbles.

But he’s unable to shake the weird feeling in his gut. That sounded like a dog but… but something still feels off.

“C’mon,” Mikey interrupts, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. “I gotta film this before it gets too late.”

After thanking their mom again for the cookies, the two of them finally head upstairs.

The only things up here are Mikey’s room, their parents’ room, and a bathroom in the hallway. The steps creak loudly with each step they take. As they make their way to Mikey’s room, Gerard glances at the photos lining the walls on either side. 

Most are old pictures of him and Mikey when they were little. School pictures and birthdays, stuff like that. There’s one from each of their high school graduations, too. Gerard smiles when he see’s how bored he looked in that stupid tux they made him wear and how Mikey was just barely smiling for the camera in his. Looking equally as uncomfortable. 

Mikey’s room looks the exact same, even though it’s been like a week at most since Gerard was in here. Most siblings grow apart with age, but him and Mikey are different he supposes.

Gerard actually cares about what Mikey likes and yeah, he finds him annoying as hell but he’d also do like- _anything_ for him. So it’s a nice alternative to all the people his age who don’t talk to their siblings except on holidays. Or maybe it’s sad that his best friend is his little brother. 

He tells himself it doesn’t matter.

Okay, so he lied. Mikey’s room doesn’t look the same as the last time he was here. But that’s only because it’s been transformed into the set for his film. 

There’s a candelabra on the nightstand made out of fake human bones, red candles dripping wax down it like blood. Actually, there’s candles everywhere. On every available surface, bathing the room in that soft light that you can really only achieve with real flame.

It’s just dark enough that his glow in the dark stars are shining and it makes Gerard smile. Even though the camera probably won’t be aimed at the ceiling, it’s a nice surprise to find that he hasn’t taken them down for this.

Mikey sets the cookies down on his desk and spins around, hands on his hips. 

“I gotta get changed, can you set up th’ camera?”

He points Gerard towards the tripod and camera resting on his bed, before grabbing a bag off the desk chair and hurrying to the bathroom.

Gerard knows like- nothing about cameras but he’s pleasantly surprised when he manages to get it set up without any major disasters. He even remembers to take off the lens cap and to make sure there aren't any cords for Mikey to trip over. 

He finishes everything right as Mikey comes back in.

Even though he and Mikey designed the clothes, Gerard can’t help but laugh when he sees what he’s wearing. Mikey just flips him off and starts fiddling with the camera to make sure everything is how he wants it.

Sure, Mikey’s a nerdy kid just like Gerard is. But there’s a difference between the soft sweaters and weird pattern pants Mikey usually wears, and the black leather jacket he’s wearing right now. His hair is even slicked back and there’s eyeliner smudged around his eyes. The ripped pants are also a very stark change.

Mikey doesn’t look _bad_ necessarily but it’s very different from his normal outfit. 

When Mikey’s happy with Gerard’s camera setup, he stands up and starts rummaging around in his closet. 

“Catch.”

Mikey chucks something at him and Gerard barely manages to keep it from hitting the floor or breaking his nose. He glances down at the… makeup? Bag in his arms as Mikey grabs another cookie and sits down on his bed.

“Need you ‘t make me look dead,” Is all the explanation Mikey gives him.

Which is fair. Being a vampire does mean Mikey needs to look like the undead. Well…

“You know,” he begins, sitting on the end of the bed and spreading the contents of the bag out on the sheets. “Some cultures didn’t believe that vampires were actually dead to begin with.” “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says matter of factly, finding a little tub of cheap, white Halloween foundation. “Some thought that they were demons, or that they were just people who’d gone insane. It’s really cool because-”

Mikey lets Gerard talk, closing his eyes when he tells him too and tilting his head when it’s time for the bite marks to be drawn on his neck.

_________________________________

‘Ray?’ Frank asks tentatively.

He’s curled up on some old park bench, the splintering wood digging into his back and the wind biting through his layers. He feels miserable and when Ray doesn’t answer, Frank honestly has to fight off the tears that sting his eyes.

There’s nothing _wrong_ exactly. He’s fine. He’s not bleeding out again by any means.

Frank’s just… tired. 

He had to work some serious magic today to spy on the human he was reporting on. They worked in some office building and there was nowhere for Frank to hide out of view so he could shift back into regular form. There was nothing but a wide open room full of cubicles and dozens of carbon copy humans in fancy clothes.

So he was forced to stay in his shadow form for over 8 hours. He may be good at that particular magic but having to hold it for that long really took its toll. But he got the stupid fucking information, gave his stupid report, and, now, all he wants to do is hear Ray’s voice so he can assure himself that this isn’t going to be the rest of his life. That Ray _is_ working on getting him out of this. As pathetic and needy as that sounds.

He sighs and curses aloud, pissed at himself for wallowing like this. But too tired and frustrated to do anything different.

‘Ray?’ he asks again, using his magic to put a little more force into the call.

He closes his eyes and curls in on himself as a particularly brutal gust blows through the deserted park. If Ray doesn’t answer soon Frank may end up falling asleep here. It’s only a little more comfortable than the grass he’s been sleeping on but he’d rather not sleep here if he can help it.

‘Frank?’

A wave of relief washes over Frank when he hears Ray’s voice. Ray sounds groggy, like he’s woken him up, and he _would_ feel bad about that. Except he’s cold and exhausted and fucking _lonely_ so sue him for being selfish. He just hopes Ray won’t get mad at him when he realizes there’s nothing wrong and Frank’s only calling for like- _attention_.

‘Hey,’ Frank says softly, forcing his eyes open so he doesn’t fall asleep here. 

He can sense Ray’s frown as he wakes up more. Ray can probably sense how tired he is. 

Which means he’s only going to worry more.

‘How was your day?’ Ray asks kindly, sending Frank a brief image of him laying in bed.

Ray looks sleepy, confirming that he did wake him, but otherwise good. A little bit of the loneliness begins to unravel in Frank’s chest and he takes a deep, purposeful breath.

‘Long. Had ‘t stay shadow-y for like- _ages_.’

Ray hums and Frank knows he’s either playing with his hair, twisting the ringlets around his fingers in repetitive motions, or rubbing his horns. Frank brings a hand up to his own hair, pretending he can feel the bone that should be there.

‘Did you at least get what you needed?’

‘Yeah,” Frank replies bitterly. ‘After 8 fuckin’ hours.’

Ray chuckles good naturedly and Frank finds himself smiling for the first time all day. Ray’s good like that, at making shit feel like it’s gonna be okay. He misses him… a lot. 

‘Miss you too, dude,’ Ray says gently, letting Frank know that the thought had been strong enough for him to pick up on.

‘ ‘s only been like a week.’

‘Longest week of my life,’ Ray counters. ‘You have no idea how boring shit is here without you. There’s no one to make dumb ass commentary all the time.’

Frank laughs aloud at that because he _does_ make stupid commentary to Ray like, constantly.

There’s a few older demons who never talk. _Ever_. So Frank has gotten in the habit of guessing what they’re thinking and relaying the increasingly ridiculous things to Ray. It’s a favorite pastime of his.

‘Aww you miss me,’ Frank teases, grinning even more when he sees Ray’s eyeroll in return.

‘ ‘course I miss you, asshole.’

Another piece of that loneliness fades and Frank now understands why Ray always brings him back things when he’s on Earth. It’s so lonely here, away from what you know. Everything’s so different. Hell might suck literal ass but it’s also where Ray is. Where everything he knows is.

When Ray’s gone on these assignments, he probably thinks about Frank as much as Frank is thinking about him right now. It’s no wonder he always brings back so many things, lets Frank go through them and pick something he likes. 

Actually, that’s a good idea. Frank should _do_ that. Bring Ray something back for him to look at and think of him, like the absolute sap that he is. 

Maybe a muffin from the shop Gerard works at? Oh that’d be perfect! 

Ray loves sweet things.

‘Oh,’ Ray says suddenly, but not loudly. ‘I got a lead on th’ person who’s coming up with the bullshit about you.’

‘Is it bad?’

Ray huffs out a laugh. ‘Depends on what you constitute as bad. So, I was in court today, right? And it was normal. Boring but normal. But then, right before we all filed out after the human soul left, Bob showed up.’

Frank sucks in a breath and sits upright fast enough for his head to spin. 

‘ _Bob_?’

‘Yeah. The Devil waved everyone else out but had me stay to take the notes because the person who normally does it had already left. And uh…’ Ray pauses in uncertainty. ‘Basically Bob agrees that you’re a traitor. Like, He told him and there was no surprise. No moment of confusion. It was like he expected it and he even agreed to be a backup for th’ person taking your reports.’

Mother _fucker_.

Frank is seeing red. And it’s not from Ray’s magic. No, it’s because of the fucking _asshole_ who fucking _dares_ to believe that Frank’s just going to give out all of Hell’s secrets! 

As if Frank has ever fucking done anything, _ever_ to make that believable! 

As if he didn’t work his way up the ranks to become a part of the Guard completely on his own. No help. No recommendations from anyone other than fucking _Ray_. 

Why the fuck would He think Frank would be so goddamn quick to give up everything he worked so fucking hard for? 

Sure, he may not have a perfect fucking past. He might not be as well known or respected as Ray. But Frank is _not_ a motherfucking traitor.

And he _knows_ Bob thinks so little of him. Has known that since the first time he met him. 

To this day, Frank can still feel that ache in his horns and still wakes up from nightmares feeling like there’s blood running down his face from the holes in his head. It’s not something he thinks he is _ever_ going to be able to forget.

And how fucking _dare_ Bob think he knows _anything_ about Frank. He doesn’t know _shit_ about him. He has absolutely fucking _nothing_ to go off on, other than his biased fucking opinion and-

And, maybe Frank is too reckless, maybe he’s an idiot, but he fucking _wishes_ he was back in Hell right now so he could fucking rip Bob’s horns out of his goddamn head and stab him with them. 

‘Frank,’ Ray chides sternly, but with an anger of his own hidden just beneath. ‘As much as I would _love_ to see you give Bob his own, we can’t. Anything like that will just make it look like we’re trying to shut the rumors up because they’re true. We have to play this smart.’

Frank _knows_ that. It’s why he’s so fucking pissed.

Because he can’t _do_ anything. 

‘And wait until we have hard proof,’ Frank finishes with a grumble.

He knows Ray’s right. He usually is. But that also _doesn’t_ erase the white hot anger still flowing through him.

He’s been pushed around enough. One of these days he _will_ make sure Bob properly pays for the shit he’s made Frank go through.

‘Exactly,’ Ray says kindly, as a feeling of comfort wafts through their link.

Frank takes a deep, calming breath and lays back down. 

While it’s true that all demons can talk like this, his and Ray’s connection is different. Rare.

They’re closer than most demons. So it’s incredibly easy for them to read each other, even over such a distance. It’s reassuring. Knowing that he’s not alone. Knowing that Ray’s just a thought or two away.

He wonders how other demons can live without this. How the fuck they live without having someone like Ray to lean on when they need it. 

Frank is usually the one who needs cheering up and stuff, because he gets hurt by things way more often than he lets on. But he also knows Ray well enough to catch onto when he’s had a bad day too.

Can tell by the crease of his forehead that he has a raging headache but won’t say a word about it. Frank knows exactly how to prod Ray into taking a break, into taking his mind off whatever horrible shit they had to do that day. 

They take care of each other and, it’s in moments like this one, where Frank honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without Ray, that he wonders why demons are seen as evil.

Sure, a lot of them are heartless. Most have had their souls worn down by hundreds of years worth of witnessing or participating in horrible things.

Maybe Frank’s just young, maybe he’s naive. But a little part in him is beginning to wonder if anyone is born inherently evil.

By conventional standards, Frank wasn't born evil. But Ray _was_. 

So was Gerard.

And yet, the three of them are perfectly good examples of people who _should_ be horrible people. But _aren’t_.

‘Frank,’ Ray interrupts his thoughts softly. ‘You’re thinking too much. Get some sleep.’

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ 

Frank wakes sometime in the mid afternoon the next day.

He hadn’t thought he was _that_ tired but, apparently, he was.

He feels great now though, well rested and ready to deal with the day. Because Lord knows his day is probably going to be a long one. It keeps getting worse, the shit he has to do in order to get the necessary information on the human he’s investigating. Pretty soon it’s probably gonna make him chop off a fucking arm or some shit. He wouldn’t put it past Hell.

But, maybe the saving grace of all of this, is that afterwards he’ll hopefully have time to visit Gerard. 

Frank stands and stretches, checking the next name on his arm before reluctantly heading in that direction. 

He went to see Gerard just yesterday, stopped by before he called Ray. 

He loves hanging out with Gerard, loves being able to make him smile when it’s so obvious he hasn’t all day. There’s just something about seeing Gerard’s face light up, watching as his walls drop and let Frank see a different part of him.

There’s something off, Frank can feel it sometimes when he’s looking at Gerard. He can’t really tell if it’s a physical thing or not. But there is a sort of dark cloud that sometimes rests over Gerard’s energy. 

It’s not like he can read auras or anything. But he can sense energies, tell if they’re strong or not. Tell when someone is sick or sad. His sense is stronger with demons but humans aren’t exactly hard to read.

With Gerard, there’s always something muddy in his energy. It lays just under the surface but Frank can’t put his finger on what it is. 

That’s not to say that Gerard doesn’t seem to enjoy hanging out with Frank. Honest to God, Frank could listen to him talk all day. He just gets so excited when he sees that Frank actually cares and ends up on the most random of subjects.

But he knows that Gerard is starting to get suspicious. 

Frank doesn’t know _shit_ about Earth. He’s completely clueless and it’s so fucking obvious.

The look Gerard gives him sometimes when he asks a question, it’s clear that he’s wondering how the fuck Frank doesn’t know this stuff.

A stupid, reckless, part of him wants to come clean. Just tell Gerard everything.

It’s so dumb but he _trusts_ him. Gerard just seems like the kind of person who’d… understand. That would be safe for Frank to tell him that he’s a demon, that he has magic, and that Heaven and Hell exist.

Which, again, is _completely_ fucking idiotic and Frank should have wiped that thought from his head the second it showed it’s ugly head. Because Gerard is _human_. He’s literally someone Frank should hate the second he knew of his existence.

But he just… doesn’t.

Gerard is so completely different to everything he was told before about humans. On every level.

He’s not selfish, or mean. Gerard has fed Frank almost every single day this week, has allowed Frank to spend hours every day just hanging out with him. 

Gerard’s so kind, so nice to him that Frank can’t push the part of him screaming at him to come clean away. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all?

______________________________________

Gerard’s day gets really shitty, really fast.

First Lyn-z texts him to tell him she’s too sick to come into work. He then spends his 10 minute break before his lunch fervently texting her to make sure she’s okay. Images of her braving a cold, dimly lit CVS flash through his mind and he has half a mind to use his lunch to bring her medicine and soup. Only after multiple reassurances that she’s fine, it’s just a cold, he agrees that he’ll just stop by after work to make sure she’s okay. 

Of course, then his day turns even worse because his boss walks through the door right as Mikey is leaving. Now, Gerard likes his boss. He’s a nice dude who’s been pretty understanding of Gerard having to take extra sick days because he can’t get out of bed some mornings. 

So, he had waved at his boss, assuming he was here to take over Lyn-z’s shift.

But nope. That’d be too easy.

Instead his boss informed him that he needed to pull the closing shift too. Which, fine whatever. He doesn’t mind closing. The problem arises when you factor in the fact that Gerard has been here since like 7:30 this morning. He didn’t even pack dinner or extra cash to grab some.

The second the door closes behind his boss, Gerard scrambles towards the back room. He slinks down behind the door with a sigh and pulls his knees up to his chest. Taking a few long moments to just breathe, Gerard tries to assure himself that this is fine.

He can manage this. It’s just another eight hours, another shift of dealing with pissy office workers on their way home and Karens on their way to sport practices. 

With shaking hands, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He has a text from Lyn-z, telling him she woke up from her nap and that she can only breathe out of one side of her nose. Despite everything, Gerard huffs out a shaky laugh and types a response. Then he goes and pulls up his and Mikey’s conversation. His thumb sits against the key but he can’t seem to figure out how to word it. So, instead he just hits the call button.

Mikey picks up in one ring and Gerard realizes belatedly that he never calls unless something is really, really wrong. Fuck.

“Gee?” Mikey asks hurriedly, his voice a sharp whisper because he’s probably in class by now.

“Mikes?”

Fuck. His voice broke. _Great_ , now Mikey’s gonna think he’s having a panic attack or something. 

“What’s wrong, do I need to come back?”

“No,” Gerard is quick to assure him. “No Mikes I’m- I’m fine. I just… I have to pull the nightshift too and…”

Shit. Talking like this isn’t any better. Especially because he _is_ just a few moments away from a panic attack.

“That’s bullshit,” Mikey says angrily.

At first Gerard’s heart drops, thinking that Mikey’s pissed at him for calling him about something so stupid. But then Mikey is quick to continue his rant.

“Your fucking boss has other employees and he shouldn’t fuckin’ be above working a shift either. Fuck.” Mikey takes a calming breath, seemingly remembering himself. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come over? I can keep you company and shit.”

Gerard wants to say no. To assure Mikey that he’s fine and he’s just fucking being dramatic. He shouldn’t have to skip class for him.

But the pull in his chest makes him give it a second thought. Because everything just feels so much more overwhelming today and he’s probably one more bad thing happening away from another breakdown.

“Please?” he whispers, unable to make his voice go any louder.

He rubs the end of his hoodie sleeve between his fingers slowly, feeling the way the worn fabric rubs against his skin and letting it calm him.

“I’m on my way.”

With that Mikey hangs up and Gerard is left alone with his thoughts. Except, not a second later the doorbell goes off.

Gerard curses and debates just sitting here and ignoring the customer. His boss can deal with the loss of business or whatever. He’s in no shape to deal with customers right now unless they want him to start crying behind the register.

“Hello?” comes a tentative, but familiar voice.

Fuck. That’s _Frank_.

Gerard scrambles up, unlocking the door and stumbling back to the counter. As he rounds the corner, he finds Frank standing in the center of the shop, hands shoved into his pockets and looking around in confusion. The second he spots Gerard though, his face breaks out into a grin and he hurries over to the counter just as Gerard makes it to the register.

“Hey!” Frank says brightly, pulling a hand out of his pocket to swipe away a piece of hair. The same piece he has to tuck away every few seconds because it refuses to stay put no matter what he does.

“Hi,” he answers shyly, praying that his voice doesn’t betray how bad he feels right now.

But, as always, Gerard can feel some of that stress evaporate now that he’s with Frank. He’s not sure what it is but there’s just something about him that _helps._

Frank frowns and Gerard gives up on hoping he hasn’t seen through his flimsy portrayal of a “normal not clinically depressed adult”.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asks gently.

That usual flash of frustration arises when Frank asks him what’s wrong just like everyone else. But he pushes it down because Frank _does_ seem to care. And also because Mikey isn’t here yet.

“Gotta work late ‘s all,” Gerard mumbles.

Frank gives him a long look, long enough for Gerard to get uncomfortable. He hates people looking at him, hates all the possibilities of what they might be thinking.

Is Frank just now realizing that Gerard’s a fucking mess and that this shit, near breakdowns like this, are normal and should be expected as often as once a week. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to deal with that. Gerard knows he’s a lot. 

“Well,” Frank says slowly, leaning against the counter a little. “How about I stay with you? You can finish telling me about that show you like. With the magic creatures and the dudes who hunt them?”

Gerard can feel the blush rising to his cheeks but he fights it off. So what if Frank remembering him blabbering about Supernatural makes him feel like he’s floating?

“Yeah,” he says quietly, eyes firmly on the counter so he doesn’t have to look into Frank’s eyes. “I’d like that.”

They sit down at a nearby table, once again with a coffee each. He hands Frank a muffin too, since they seem to be his favorite. But before they can start the conversation again, Mikey bursts through the door.

He finds Gerard instantly and crosses the floor in two long strides. Gerard can see that he’s trying to keep from looking concerned. but it’s so obvious in the way Mikey rakes his eyes over him like he’s making sure he’s not hurt or anything.

“Hey Mikes,” Gerard says shyly, eyes darting over to Frank.

It’s just occurred to him that both Frank and Mikey have offered to spend this extra shift with him. And now that he realized that, he also connects the dots and discovers that this is the first time Mikey’s met Frank. 

Fuck his life.

Mikey gives Frank a long look, taking in every detail of him before glancing at Gerard and raising his eyebrow in a silent question.

“Um. This is Frank. I uh… I told you about him th’ other day?”

Mikey looks again at Frank, who shrinks under his brother’s hard gaze like a scolded child. But Mikey soon seems to come to some sort of conclusion, and it must be a good one because he extends his hand for Frank to shake.

“Mikey,” he says gruffly, but with no malice underneath.

“Uh. Frank. You’re Gee’s brother, right?”

That gets Gerard another look from Mikey, asking him exactly how _much_ he’s told Frank. Gerard just shrugs.

“Yeah,” Mikey says, sliding into the seat beside Gerard. “That’s me.”

“Frank offered to stay too,” Gerard supplies awkwardly.

“Oh?”

At Mikey’s questioning look, Frank nods. He doesn’t look uncomfortable exactly, just really, really fucking confused.

“That’s good,” Mikey says evenly, but with a gentle brush of his shoulders against Gerard’s. “You good?” he adds under his breath.

“Yeah, better now.”

He’s not lying either. Like, he doesn’t feel great or anything, but he’s better than he was half an hour ago at the least.

Mikey nods and sneaks his arm around Gerard’s middle, giving him a good squeeze. He doesn’t seem mad either, which is relieving. Gerard had almost been afraid that he’d be upset with him for making him leave class and stuff. Especially now that Frank’s here too.

“Can I trust you with him?” Mikey demands of Frank, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes in intimidation.

Frank shrinks further under Mikey’s glare, as one should.

“Mikey,” Gerard huffs in exasperation.

He appreciates the sentiment and all, but this is fucking _embarrassing_.

“Can I?” Mikey asks again, voice a fraction lower.

“Yes,” Frank is quick to answer, shaking his head furiously. “I’ll stay here the whole evening and… and I’ll even walk him home.”

Mikey’s eyes narrow further, but then he sits back up and his posture eases back into the lazy slouch he always has.

“Good.”

He looks over to Gerard, making sure it’s alright with him. With a small, yet sure, nod from him, Mikey is satisfied. He stands easily and announces that he has a midterm to study for, and if they need him, to just yell.

Gerard watches, sort of in a trance from how fast Mikey decided he liked Frank, as his brother pulls his laptop from his bag. Instantly he’s zeroed in on whatever he’s studying, hunched over and chewing on a pencap. 

Gerard lets out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding and glances up to Frank. He looks about the same way Gerard feels.

“ _That’s_ your baby brother?” He whispers in disbelief, twisting around to look at Mikey.

Gerard can’t help but laugh. “Yep.”

Someone comes into the shop then, with a piece of paper completely covered front to back in their hand. Gerard sighs and stands to go take their, likely extremely long and complicated, order.

_____ _____

Gerard watches Mikey from behind the counter. 

He has a book open, one thicker than Gerard’s arm, but his arms are lazily holding his phone over the table. He’s been studying for almost three hours by now and Gerard almost wants to offer him another snack, even though he’s only supposed to give out one to one family member a day. But Gerard had to work 2 shifts and Mikey’s probably hungry, knowing him. So fuck it.

Gerard grabs a piece of banana bread and a cup of regular coffee before going over to Mikey’s table.

Mikey doesn't even look up until he sets the items down in front of his face. Finally he notices Gerard and gives him a grateful half-smile.

“You looked tired,” Gerard offers as Mikey starts chugging his coffee.

He gives Gerard a noncommittal groan. It might even be a thank you.

Mikey’s phone buzzes and Gerard watches his face as he reads the message. It goes from the relaxed to excited, and then Mikey just frowns. He looks almost sad and Gerard pieces it together a second later.

Someone wanted to hang out and Mikey is going to decline because he’s busy spending the evening babysitting _Gerard_. 

“Go,” he says lightly, motioning towards Mikey’s phone. 

“But, Gee. What if something happens and-”

“Frank’s still gonna be here,” Gerard assures him, waving his hand to where Frank sits a few tables down.

Mikey follows his gaze and they watch Frank scribble on a napkin with the sort of attention you would see in a world class painter. Except Gerard can see what he’s doodling and it’s pretty shit. Mikey looks back to Gerard with an expression that simply asks, _really_?

Gerard rolls his eyes. “He’s fine. He keeps me company a lot, actually.”

“I- I dunno Gee… are you sure?”

“Positive. Go have fun, asshole.”

Mikey swats at him playfully and shoves the piece of banana bread in his mouth as he crams his things into his bag. He’s out the door in less than a minute, with a promise to be home a little after midnight. 

And, true to his word, a few hours later once Gerard’s shift is over, Frank walks him home.

His whole chest feels light and giddy with the fact that _Frank_ is walking him _home_. Like, this is a monumental point in their friendship and he can’t get that thought out of his head.

Frank’s gonna know where he _lives_. He thinks Gerard is interesting enough to spend his entire fucking evening with him _and_ he lets him ramble on about nothing the whole time.

Gerard hasn’t felt this… carefree in a long time. 

“- and don’t let Mikey scare you. He’s like 90 pounds soaking wet and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s just…” Gerard stalls, trying to think of the right word to describe Mikey. “Protective. You know? He just, wants to make sure you’re not gonna hurt me or something. Lie to me or whatever.”

Frank hums and Gerard lets the silence envelop them. It should be awkward, given that they barely know each other. And it is a little bit, but not so much so that Gerard wants to find something stupid to fill the empty space with, you know? 

The irregular rhythm of their shoes scuffing on the sidewalk is calming and Gerard makes sure to step on every crunchy leaf he comes across. Frank laughs aloud each time, like it’s the first time he’s ever heard or done this.

About halfway home, the back of Gerard’s hand brushes against Frank’s. They’re walking so close together that this should be expected, but he can’t help the shock that feels like it goes through him. Even in the cold, Frank’s skin was warm and surprisingly soft.

Gerard sort of hopes Frank didn’t notice it happened. Because his heart is beating so fast just from such a small amount of touch. He’s terrified but he… he almost doesn’t mind it.

But then Frank leans closer and brushes his hand against Gerard’s again. On purpose.

Gerard sucks in a breath that Frank doesn’t seem to notice. He’s so afraid, so worried that this is going to be another stupid fucking mistake. Letting Frank get close to him. But fuck. Maybe it’s worth it.

He flinches hard when Frank slips his hand into his. And Gerard knows Frank felt him flinch, can tell how tense he is. But it’s hard enough to remember how to breathe and Gerard can’t move fast enough when Frank pulls his hand away. 

“ ‘m sorry. I don’t know why I did that I-”

But Gerard has already come to a decision. He grabs Frank’s hand again, the force and sureness of the action surprising even himself. Without a word, and shaking ever so slightly, he intertwines their fingers.

It takes him a moment to look up at Frank but when he does there’s nothing but careful affection brimming in his eyes.

“This okay?” Frank asks softly, looking down at their hands.

Gerard can feel how Frank is shaking a little too, scared just like he is. He can feel that he was right, that Frank’s skin is soft and so warm that it feels like it’s giving off its own heat.

“Yeah,” Gerard whispers.

Because yes this is okay, it’s _more_ than okay. It’s probably cheesy and stupid and he should lay off the romance novels, but it feels like their hands fit together. Almost like they were made for each other.

As they slowly begin walking again, Gerard sort of wants to tell Frank about soulmates and stardust. See if he believes in it too. In the possibility of your soulmate(s) being made from the same stardust as you, that the universe will always bring you back together eventually.

“Hey uh, Gee?” Frank says out of the blue, making Gerard look up and lose his train of thought.

Frank looks… almost nervous. Scared even. But sure, at the same time.

“Yeah?” 

“I need to tell you something,” he whispers, so quiet Gerard almost doesn't catch it. A flash of fear shoots through him. This is where Frank tells him he’s annoying. That he’s too much of a wreck and, this has been fun and all, but he can’t keep hanging out with Gerard like this. 

“Um. I- I dunno how else to tell you so I’m just gonna like- come out and say it, okay?”

Gerard nods even though he feels like his chest is caving in with building panic. 

“I uh- I’m a demon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. Plz don't hate me forever!  
> So yeah, Ray's got a lead. Gerard is adorable and falling oh, so hard. And Frank's an impulsive idiot but that's okay because he's cute. Also, Mikey would totally kick Frank's ass if he hurt Gerard, just saying. Those were not idle threats.  
> Let me know what you think?


	7. You don't know a thing about my sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood/gore  
> *violence  
> *eating disorders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Super sorry this one is late. Night shift at my new job is currently kicking my butt way more than i thought it was. because i'm generally a nighttime kinda person but my body is definatly not happy with me for screwing up my sleep schedule more than normal haha  
> It's not even lunchtime yet but i'm going to go to sleep right after I post this haha. So, fair waring. @i-like-to-wander-around-here did an amazing job editing this chapter for me. But, bc I am tired, there's probably a big chance that I, personally, have missed something or deleted her suggestion without fixing the problem on accident. When I am more awake this evening I'll go back over it and double check.  
> Please heed the trigger warnings for this one, it's a lot more graphic than the past few! and i hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *chapter title is from Heaven Help us by mcr*

Gerard blinks at Frank, eyes wide and a half smiling forming on his face as if he’s waiting for Frank to tell the rest of a joke.

“ _What_?”

It’s almost a beg, like he’s not sure if he heard Frank right.

And, seriously, why the _fuck_ did he just up and say it like that!

He’s known Gerard for a literal week. The fuck is wrong with him? He’s starting to panic, to actually realize how fucking stupid this is. Telling Gerard could get them both _killed_. But, at the same time, he doesn’t necessarily want to take it back.

Because, even though Frank can tell he’s surprised him, Gerard hasn’t taken his hand away. They’re connected and Frank can’t help but revel in the way their hands fit together. It eases the growing panic in Frank’s chest. How, beyond the obvious confusion, the look in Gerard’s eyes reassures him that he can tell him anything.

It’s a lot, it’s intense, and they hardly know each other. But Frank can’t bring himself to just bolt like part of him is screaming for him to do.

“I’m a demon,” he says just a tad louder, more sure.

Gerard gives him a long up and down look.

“I-” he shakes his head and clears his throat. “You’re a demon.”

Frank shakes his head yes and looks down at their hands. 

The streetlights are dim and they cast odd shadows over the two of them. They’ve stopped walking and are just sort of standing here on the sidewalk. Though, it’s late and there doesn’t appear to be anyone out besides them.

Frank studies the way the slanted, orange light of the streetlamps make the contours of Gerard’s face more pronounced. The way the shadows seem to fall over him like they were meant to be there, drawing out his beauty and honestly making Frank unable to look away from him.

He knew the second he saw Gerard that he was pretty, that he could stare into his bright hazel eyes for hours if he wanted. But here, right now, with everything paused as he waits for Gerard’s reaction, Frank finds himself completely in awe of Gerard. 

In the way his free hand fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket, like they always do whenever he’s nervous or thinking. How there’s a smear of food on his shirt from work. The way his hair falls in messy strands from the wind and his habit of running his fingers through it. That one strand that always sticks straight out on the side.

Frank can’t look away and he realizes with dawning fear that he’s already falling for him. It’s then Gerard makes a face, like he’s giving Frank the benefit of the doubt, and waves his hand.

“A demon. As in, pointy horns and a _pitchfork_?” Gerard asks skeptically.

Frank can’t help the snort that comes out as that image pops into his head. He knew humans had strange beliefs when it came to demons, if they believed his kind existed at all. But this is pushing it a little.

“Pitchfork?” he asks, trying to remember what one even looks like.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, a little defensively. “Like, that’s a thing demons have, right?”

He’s wrong. But it’s the fact that he’s _trying_ to understand that counts. Even though Frank has to hold in his laugh as he answers.

“Yeah… no. Horns, absolutely, but pitchforks are a hard nope.”

“Oh,” he says under his breath, taking a long moment before he continues. “So, you have horns?”

He doesn’t sound like he thinks Frank is insane, which is probably farther than he should be getting. Given the fact that he’s literally telling Gerard earth-shattering news. The _trouble_ they’ll both be in if someone finds out is terrifying. 

And truthfully, Gerard doesn't sound like he’s completely convinced. It’s sort of like when he was trying to explain the rules behind one of the characters in a show he watches.

There’s a serious interest there but there’s a clear cut line between it, something he believes to be fiction, and something that is a proven fact.

Which just means Frank has to prove that he’s a demon. Right?

“So, how come I can’t see them?” 

Gerard’s staring at the top of his head like his horns will just appear out of thin air. Which would be nice. Seeing as Frank is really mourning their “loss”. It’s so strange to not have them, especially because he was just getting used to them again. 

“Glamour,” Frank explains with a shrug. “I can’t control it but it basically keeps me looking human until I get back home.”

“Home… as in hell?”

“Yep, ‘s where I’m from.”

“Oh. Is that… is that why you didn’t know much about,” Gerard waves his hand to the street beside them. “All this?”

“Yeah, it’s a little different in Hell.”

“Okay.”

Gerard sounds like he believes him a little more but Frank knows that there’s still some doubt there. And, really, Frank can’t blame him for that. 

What he needs is hard proof. Something Gerard can’t deny is a trick or a prank or something. 

Turning into his shadow form might work but it’s dark, and Gerard won’t be able to really see it happen. With his luck it’ll just look like he stepped into the shadows. Not actual magic. No. He needs something much more concrete.

Oh. That’s it!

“Do you have any papercuts or anything?”

Gerard blinks at him, clearly caught off guard.

“No…” he says slowly, looking confused. 

“Or, like anything that hurts? Stubbed toe, hangnail?”

There’s a moment where Frank thinks that he’s blown it, that Gerard thinks he’s absolutely insane and that he’s never going to see him again. But then, slowly, Gerard uses his free hand to lift the corner of his jacket to reveal his side.

There’s a fading yellow bruise standing out against his pale skin, one that was probably really nasty a few days ago. Frank winces in sympathy.

“Would this work?” Gerard asks, uncertain and a bit flushed.

“It’ll work perfectly.”

Frank makes eye contact and waits for Gerard’s nod before he places one of his hands over the old bruise. Ray is way better at this than he is, but it’s not like this is life threatening in any way. Gerard probably can’t even feel it anymore. But, he’ll definitely be able to see that the yellow/green is gone when Frank heals it. 

That’s the plan anyway.

Frank closes his eyes in concentration and pokes around with his sense until he’s able to find the little puff of grey that this minor of an injury creates on Gerard’s energy. It’s an easy fix. Just a small dip into his own energy and it’s done. He doesn’t even feel it.

When he opens his eyes and takes a step back- somehow with their hands still intertwined- Gerard’s inspecting the healed spot with a quiet fascination.

“You healed it,” he states softly, looking back down at the exposed sliver of his skin as if the bruise is going to reappear.

Frank feels himself flush and he dips his head in an attempt to hide his growing redness. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed and a little… weird about this, but he can’t ignore the flutter in his stomach when Gerard looks back up at him with his huge, hazel eyes.

“Thank you,” Gerard says softly, like Frank just saved his life rather than healed a nearly-gone bruise.

“Of course. I- do you believe me now?”

Gerard takes another look at his hip, poking at the area where the bruise was before looking back to Frank.

“Yes.”

____________________________________

____________________________________

Frank leads him all the way home after that. They don’t talk much but Gerard is thankful for the quiet. 

It helps him think, helps him try and wrap his head around the fact that Frank is a _demon_. That he healed Gerard. That he has horns that Gerard can’t see.

His thoughts are scrambling too much for him to form any real questions right now, but tomorrow, when Frank shows up to the shop, Gerard will probably have a book full of things he wants to ask.

Because does this mean heaven exists too? God? 

Fuck, does this mean Frank was evil and when he died his soul was given eternal punishment?

Gerard isn’t sure. It seems unlikely, if only because Frank’s been so nice as long as he’s known him. Which, admittedly, isn’t that long.

Right now though, Gerard can’t bring himself to ask those things. 

They pause on the doorstep outside of his house and suddenly the nighttime is even more quiet.

Gerard turns to face Frank and searches his face in the pale light. He’s not sure what he’s looking for but he finds nothing but a… content sort of happiness in Frank’s eyes. Like he was worried tonight would go badly and is impossibly relieved that it didn’t.

It also looks like an entire world has been lifted from Frank’s shoulders ever since he told Gerard the truth. A part of him is upset that Frank didn’t just come outright and say it but he also understands that hearing that sort of confession from a stranger would have ended in Gerard kicking him out of the store. 

But he’s so, so glad that Frank told him. Trusted him with something so important.

He’s certain there’s rules to what Frank is allowed to tell him, at least because that’s how things usually are in the books he reads and the movies he watches about creatures like Frank.

Fuck. That’s something that hasn’t really settled in yet. The fact that Frank isn’t human. 

Do demons live forever?

And if they do, how old is Frank?

Fuck what if Gerard’s been holding hands with someone who was born like… a _thousand_ years ago?

Okay, that’s one question he has to ask before he goes inside. He won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t.

“Frank?”

It takes him a moment to look at Gerard, as if he was lost in his own head. Frank hums softly as the pad of his thumb unconsciously rubs over the skin of Gerard’s hand.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That seems to snap him out of wherever his head was. He shakes his head seriously, his jaw set like he’s preparing himself for whatever Gerard’s going to ask. 

“How old are you? I mean- like in most media demons have been around since the beginning of time. And like, there’s also the fact that you could have been human at one point and went to Hell after you died and-”

“Four hundred.”

Gerard startles and takes a step back, dumbfounded.

“Four _hundred_?”

“Yeah,” Frank says softly, tearing his eyes away from Gerard as he pulls his hand away as well. 

Gerard feels the chill of the night all of a sudden, as if Frank’s been keeping him warm this whole time. But he can’t get over the fact aht Frank is _centuries_ old. Like. The oldest person he knows is his grandma and she’s _ancient_ , but in reality she is only in her 80’s.

“But um… we age a little different than humans, ‘s far as I can tell, anyway,” Frank adds under his breath.

“So… that’d make you…?”

“20? In human years. I- I’m not sure what the exact math is. Ray would probably know, he knows a lot about humans and he’s really cool. But um….” Frank trails off, scuffing his shoe against the wood of Gerard’s porch.

“About 20. I um- how old are you?”

Gerard wasn’t expecting that question. But it makes sense. Frank doesn’t know how human years work.

“23 but I’ll be 24 in th’ spring,” Gerard says slowly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Frank is _technically_ around his age.

Fuck this is weird.

“That’s good. I um… I’ll let you head in now. It’s getting late and you gotta visit Lyn-z in the morning, right?”

Oh. Right. Gerard had almost forgotten how he’d sort of ranted to Frank about how worried he was about her. It was Frank’s idea for him to stop by tomorrow before he pulled a night shift at work. 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, feeling a small pang of sadness pull at him as he realizes it’s time for them to say goodnight.

“Night, Gee.”

There’s something so soft in his voice, so gentle that it makes Gerard want to invite him in. But he can’t. Not yet.

Today was a lot of firsts, a lot of steps forward that Gerard can feel his anxiety already trying to pick apart. 

Another time. He’ll invite Frank in next time.

“Night,” he says under his breath. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Sleep well, Gee.”

He turns and starts walking down the steps and back onto the sidewalk. Gerard opens the door clumsily a second later, nearly running into Mikey in the process.

He looks like he just got home, dressed in his clothes from earlier but with a definite sleepiness to him that tells him he had fun. But he’s not drunk, if he drinks he always makes sure to be asleep before Gerard can see him. 

Gerard has too much on his mind to pick that apart tonight. 

“Oh,” Mikey mutters, startled. “Sorry. How was work?”

Gerard shrugs but his flustered expression must give him away.

“Did something happen?” he asks Gerard cryptically, as if trying to decide if this is a good or bad kind of flustered.

“Uh, kinda? But I don’t wanna keep you up. You have work in the morning and-”

Mikey cuts him off with a shush and guides him by the shoulders into the kitchen. He plops Gerard down on a seat and goes about putting on a tea kettle.

“Spill.”

Gerard stutters, making a somewhat strangled noise at Mikey’s lack of prelude to the questioning. He’d never expect anything less but how the fuck is he going to explain to Mikey that Frank’s a _demon_. Like. He doesn’t even have any proof because he kept the stupid bruise a secret all week, and had honestly forgotten about it until Frank asked.

There’s no way Mikey is going to believe him and-

“Hey, you don’t gotta if you don’t wanna. It just looked like something happened and since I, ya know, fucked up last time you were excited, I figured I’d offer.”

Gerard takes a deep breath and pushes his panic down. Mikey’s right. He needs to talk about this, maybe then it’ll start making more sense.

“Um. So Frank walked me home.” Mikey smiles in encouragement and Gerard stares at the table in front of him for strength. “And we sorta ended up holding hands on the way…”

Mikey’s face splits into a grin as he sets a mug down for Gerard. “That’s amazing, Gee!”

Eased by how well Mikey’s taking it this time, Gerard finds himself nodding as he continues.

“Yeah. He was really sweet about it too. Like, I was kinda afraid. But um. He didn’t even push at all and I was th’ one who actually, ya know, grabbed his hand.”

Gerard is blushing so hard by the end of that sentence that he’s certain he looks like a fucking tomato right now. He feels like he’s a teenager again, crushing on a cute senior who waved at him.

But like. This is different. Because Frank actually seems to like Gerard _back_ and he trusted him enough to tell him something so big.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mikey tells him as he takes a drink of his own tea. “That’s a big step.”

Oh, but Gerard hasn’t even _gotten_ to the really interesting part of tonight. For a second he debates just leaving it at that, at letting Mikey think nothing else happened. That Frank didn’t come clean about being an actual, real life, supernatural creature.

But this is his _brother_. He tells Mikey everything. There’s no one else he can trust with something like this.

“Uh… there’s more,” he adds, earning a raised eyebrow from Mikey. 

When it clicks that Mikey thinks they _kissed_ or- or _more_ , Gerard swears he grows even more red if that’s at all possible.

“No,” he’s quick to amend. “No, not like that. We just held hands.”

Mikey doesn’t press, thankfully not teasing Gerard for once. 

“Um. He kinda told me something. Something big.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah um…” Gerard trails off.

“Like, he has six kids and an ex in Alabama big, or like he’s been to jail big?”

Despite everything, Gerard laughs at that.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Uh, promise you won’t think I'm crazy?

Mikey gives him a strange look but nods.

“He kinda told me he isn’t human.”

“Gee…” Mikey warns, as if Gerard would joke about something like this.

“I’m serious, Mikes. He’s not human.”

The look Mikey gives him feels like it’s cutting into his bones. Mikey looks two seconds away from asking him if he’s taken anything. Which, is fair. But also, Gerard really wouldn’t joke about this sort of thing.

He and Mikey kinda had a pact when they were younger. If they ever found definitive proof that something supernatural or like- mystical in any way- was real, they wouldn’t keep it a secret. And, so far, other than them both agreeing that the cemetery behind the church near their house is _definitely_ haunted, this situation hasn’t come up.

“You’re _sure_?” Mikey asks slowly.

“Yeah. He showed me. Uh… healed a bruise I got from running into something. I watched it with my own eyes, Mikes.”

Mikey puts his head in his hand and takes a deep breath.

“And so he’s… what? A witch, or I guess a warlock or something?”

“No. He said he’s a uh… a demon.”

That makes Mikey look up so fast he’s worried for a second he gave himself whiplash.

“A _demon_?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah. Said he has horns but not the pitchfork. I asked.”

“I-” Mikey runs a hand down his face. “Fuck. You’re not joking, are you?” Gerard shakes his head, suddenly self conscious.

From Mikey’s point of view, this either looks like Gerard has finally lost whatever flimsy grip on sanity he had, or that Frank’s playing a really cruel joke because Gerard is gullible. Gerard tries to not entertain the second option. 

“Okay,” Mikey says, like he’s made up his mind. “I believe you. But tomorrow I wanna hear it from him.”

“He comes by at like, the same time everyday,” Gerard offers. “I can ask him to walk me home again? That way you can talk to him here?”

“Sounds perfect. But, for now Gee, let's go to bed. It’s way too late for an existential crisis.” Smiling, Gerard takes one last sip of his tea and he and Mikey go their separate ways.

________________________________________

“Lynds?” Gerard calls softly as he lets himself into her apartment.

She had texted him saying the door was unlocked and that he could come right in, but he _feels_ like he looks suspicious. 

The old lady in the stairwell gave him a weird look, as if he was someone who looked like they were about to steal something. Which, given the fact that he gets anxious when the person by the door in department stores asks for his receipt, like they do to _everyone_ , it’s kinda funny that someone would think he’d actually be able to steal something.

He shrugs that line of thought off and steps into the apartment a little further.

“Here,” comes Lyn-z’s reply, her voice thick and slightly nasally.

He glances down and, sure enough, she’s curled up on the couch in at least a dozen blankets. Gerard laughs but sits down on an open spot of the couch before reaching to grab the soup he brought out of his bag.

“Uh, Mikey helped me make this so it should probably be edible,” he says awkwardly, handing her the to-go bowl.

She takes it gladly and pops the plastic lid off, accepting the spoon Gerard hands her next.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she says seriously, already digging in.

Gerard just shrugs and rubs at his sleeve.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks once she’s finished most of the soup and has peeled off some of her mountain of blankets.

“Yeah. This cold just took me by surprise because I don’t get sick all that often. Oh!” she turns to face him, placing a hand on his leg. “Thanks by the way, for takin’ my shift. Mikey told me about Dave being a dick with the shift change. I owe you one, for sure.”

Gerard just shrugs it off. It wasn’t that bad. He got to spend more of his day with Frank because of it, so it sorta makes up for the near breakdown he had.

“You don’t owe me anything, Lynds. Not your fault you got sick.”

She gives him a look that says he’s not getting out of her owing him one, but lets him change the subject anyway. They sit and talk about the newest episode of a tv show they both watch until it’s time for Gerard to head into work.

_________________________________________ 

It’s another slow day. 

Gerard’s not quite sure why but he’s not about to question it. The lack of customers gives him plenty of time to get lost in his head, to think about what Frank told him. About what Frank is.

He has a lot of questions. In fact, he has taken to scribbling them down in a free page of his notebook so he can keep track of them all.

When Frank comes in this evening, Gerard is going to figure out _exactly_ what the fuck is going on. Because there’s a pang of hurt accompanying all of this, one that Gerard hates but knows well.

Frank lied.

Now, it’s not like Frank could have just told Gerard all of this the day they met. He would probably thought he was insane and/or kicked him out of the shop. But like, an explanation before Gerard started falling for him might have been nice.

Like, what even _are_ the rules for this kind of shit? Can Frank even _date_ a human?

That thought leaves a sick pit in Gerard’s stomach, a coiling thread of anxiety that he just can’t push away. 

He’s written that exact question on the very bottom line of his list, circled in red pen so he doesn’t chicken out. 

There’s a lot at stake here, more than he was expecting when he first decided he might like to get to know Frank better. Gerard had assumed, of course, that he’d be dealing with his own shit. With deciding how and when to tell Frank about his past, about why he is the way that he is. His conclusion, whenever he’d thought on the subject for longer than a minute, was always later. Not now. Not yet.

He’s not ready. 

It took _months_ of knowing Lyn-z and even then, Gerard still can’t believe he’s let her in as much as he has. So now that Frank’s come clean about _his_ big secret, well fuck. Doesn’t that mean Gerard should too?

That he should mention to Frank how he’s a mess on the good days and a complete trainwreck on the bad ones? How he sometimes has more bad days than good, how his own head often gets the better of him?

Gerard knows that he _should_ tell Frank all of these things. It’s the mature, adult thing to do. Especially when he’s feeling hurt because of the fact that Frank didn’t tell him everything. But he just… can’t. He’s not ready. He’s not strong enough to sit down and have that conversation.

Because Frank will have questions and then Gerard will have to _explain_ and he just _can’t_ do that. 

Gerard sighs softly and rests his head on the palm of his hand, leaning his elbow on the counter and staring down at the long list of questions he’s written.

How can he ask Frank all of this and not give him any truths about his own life? It doesn’t feel fair but, before he can decide, the doorbell goes off and Frank walks in. 

He’s smiling, though it’s clearly forced as he strolls up to the counter.

“Just us?” he asks, glancing around to the empty tables around them.

“Yeah, hardly any customers today.”

“Oh.”

Frank looks down at Gerard’s hands, at the book he hasn’t bothered closing.

“What’s that?” he asks curiously, pointing to the page.

Gerard takes a steadying breath, preparing himself for the worst. Whatever that might be.

But he should have known that nothing would be the same after what Frank told him. Every semblance of a normal relationship- platonic or otherwise- went out the window.

This is completely new and Gerard needs to know what he’s getting himself into because, _fuck_. He really, really likes Frank. 

“Uh, questions mostly,” Gerard begins softly. 

“About me?”

Gerard nods. “Yeah. I just… I just don’t wanna be left in the dark. If we’re gonna keep doing this, hanging out together I mean, I want to have all the pieces. Ya know?”

Frank looks anxiously at the list and, for a moment, Gerard thinks he’s about to say no and just leave. But, eventually, Frank agrees and motions for Gerard to sit with him.

As he slides into the cheap, plastic chair, Gerard can’t help but feel like everything’s changed now. It’s not the same as before. It’s not just making a new friend and purposefully forcing himself to not overthink it. Because now, Gerard _has_ to overthink it. He needs to know what’s going on but what he finds out might end up leaving him with a hard choice.

He doesn’t _want_ to have to forget about Frank. But if, for whatever reason, Frank turns out to not be who he thought he was, then Gerard will have no choice.

He refuses to go through this shit again. _Refuses_ to open his heart up to someone only for them to destroy him. He’s only _just_ made it to where he is now and he will be damned if he loses that progress.

And, as much as he likes Frank. As much as he thinks he might be able to fall in love with him. It’s not worth losing himself over.

Gerard has to remind himself of that. 

Finally, he looks away from his notes and takes in Frank’s appearance. Half to stall before he has to start talking but also because Frank looks just as good as every other time they’ve talked.

He’s wearing the same clothes as always, a too large jacket that’s definitely in need of a wash and a muddy pair of jeans. His tattoos peak out on his hands and his neck, leaving Gerard wondering if there’s any blank skin on him at all. 

Frank’s eyes are on him too, waiting patiently for Gerard to start. There’s a nervousness there, like there was last night, but Gerard can’t tell if it holds any guilt or not.

He glances down at his book again, reading over the first question and making sure he’s ready before reading it aloud.

“You said you’ve been a demon for 400 years,” he waits on Frank’s confirmation before continuing. “Were you human before that?”

Frank leans his elbows on the table and starts picking at his fingernails.

“No. I wasn’t born a human.”

“So you were born a demon?” Gerard asks curiously.

But Frank almost seems to pale, as if he’d been expecting that question and was dreading it.

“Kinda.”

“What do you-”

“Can I skip that question?” Frank asks suddenly, a panic in his voice that surprises Gerard.

He wants to say no. Wants to demand Frank tell him exactly what the hell that was supposed to mean. But, seeing as he has no plans of opening up his own secrets tonight, Gerard waves his hand and lets it slide.

“Okay, I guess. Um, other than healing, do you have actual like- magic?” Frank lightens immediately and nods.

“Yeah! I’m not very good at a lot of it but I have all the basic powers ‘n shit.”

“Like?” Gerard presses, roaming his eyes over Frank as if he’d be able to see the magic under his skin.

“Well, I can, theoretically, make portals between here and Hell. But I’m absolutely fuckin’ _shit_ at them so that’s not one I can really show you. But,” he says suddenly as a sly grin worms its way over his face. “ I can show you my favorite. Since it’s bright in here you’ll really be able ‘t tell.”

Gerard watches with wide eyes as Frank gets a look of intense concentration. There’s a split second where it looks like nothing has changed and Gerard almost tells Frank off for fucking with him like that. But then Frank gets… blurry. Or maybe misty is the right word. In less than a second he completely fades away.

Gerard is left staring open mouthed at the empty seat across from him.

Demons can _teleport_? Or, turn invisible? 

The _fuck_?

“Frank?” he calls, a tiny bit of fear seeping into his voice.

Frank wouldn’t just leave him here, would he?

Then he blinks and Frank is back in his seat, a wide grin on his face and a muffin in his hand that hadn’t been there before. He takes a bite out of it and Gerard sputters in an attempt to get his words to work. 

“Shadow form,” Frank explains with a mouthful. “Basically it’s this other form demons can exist in. I’m really good at it, for some reason, and it comes really easily to me.”

“But- but how did you get the muffin?”

Gerard twists in his seat to look behind him at the display case behind the counter. And, sure enough, there’s a missing muffin from the front row. 

“I’m still here, like in this room. You just can’t see me. It’s kinda like hiding between layers, I guess. If that makes any sense.”

It doesn’t but Gerard agrees anyway.

“Um. Okay. So you can heal, make portals, and go ghost?”

“Not a ghost, since ‘m not dead,” Frank says, the reference completely going over his head. “But yeah, basically. There’s others but that’s the main gist.”

“Okay,” Gerard looks back down at his paper, skipping over the ones Frank’s already answered indirectly. “Uh, why are you here on earth? Like, shouldn’t you stay in Hell?”

Frank winces, like it’s another question he’d been hoping to avoid. But Gerard’s not gonna give him another pass. This one is important.

“Assignment. I gotta check and see how well my fellow demons are doing in their jobs.”

“And what are their jobs?” Gerard presses, easily noticing how Frank was almost deflecting around that detail.

“Corrupting people. Putting more people on the track to Hell.”

The look of horror must be written all over his face because Franks holds his hands up desperately and hurries to explain.

“I know it’s fucked up. I _know_. But I didn’t have a choice in this, in the assignment or what Hell is doing. But I promise I hate it as much as you do.”

Gerard squints, searching for any hint of dishonesty. 

The thought of Frank checking down a list of people whose souls were just damned makes him physically sick. But, maybe it’s the same as getting angry at a cashier for a company’s policy on wasted food. It’s not that person’s fault. They have no say in what goes on. 

But _still_. This isn’t something he can just _overlook_.

“Why would you stay,” Gerard asks quietly. “If you know this is wrong, why stay? Why continue to hurt people?”

Frank shakes his head desperately, like it’s so much more complicated than that. 

“I _can’t_. Gerard I can’t leave. You don’t just _leave_ Hell. You either get kicked out, or you die. There’s,” His voice breaks here and Gerard waits carefully for him to finish. “There’s no other option.”

“Okay,” he says gently. 

There’s no way Frank could be lying about this, not when it’s so clear on his face that he’s struggling with it too. 

It takes a long while for Frank to look back up at Gerard, but when he does there’s the smallest of smiles on his face. Genuine. Like he doesn’t mind Gerard prying about all this stuff. In fact, he almost looks relieved to get it off his chest. Maybe he is.

“So,” Gerard continues, “Since you said Hell is real, is it like a place?”

“Yeah. Kinda. It’s… it’s sorta separated from Earth but you can get to and from with portals or tunnels. Both require magic though and humans aren’t uh… allowed.”

“Is that how you got here, through a portal?”

“Yep,” Frank says with a firm nod. “Another demon made it, ‘cause like I said I’m shit at portals. But Ray, he can do one in his _sleep_ basically. He’s awesome and I love him to death.”

Gerard feels his good mood drop suddenly. At how easily Frank talked about Ray. How it’s so clear in the way he said his name that they’re close.

Could Ray be Frank’s boyfriend or, or _husband_?

Sure, Frank never said anything about a boyfriend when they were holding hands last night but what if open relationships are more common in Hell. That’s not to say Gerard is opposed exactly to being in a poly relationship, because he’s _not_. But he would have liked to know _beforehand_ that there was another person in the picture. And then he would have to meet them first because, to him, it’s an equal three way relationship. He’s not sure he would like Frank dating someone he doesn’t know. 

And _fuck_. It’s not like Frank was dating Gerard in the first place. They literally held hands. That’s _it_.

Gerard should _not_ be this heartbroken about the possibility of Frank having someone else.

“Did I say something wrong?”

He glances across the table at Frank and the look on his face, the sheer guilt dripping off of him, is enough for Gerard to find the words to speak.

“Is Ray your boyfriend. Or uh… husband?”

They hurt to say out loud, so much worse than when they were just in his head. But he has to know. That was the point of all these questions, to finally get to know Frank. And, if this turns out to be different than what he thought it was, Gerard knows he’s going to have to be strong enough to walk away.

But, to his surprise, Frank laughs. 

“Ray?” he asks, one eyebrow raised as he giggles.

Gerard manages a weak yes.

“No, ew god no. Ray’s like, my _brother_ , dude. That’d just be _gross_.”

Something flutters in Gerard’s stomach. Hope.

Because, does this mean Frank might like him too? That them holding hands last night was actually a _thing_ and not just a friendship thing? 

Like, he and Lyn-z hold hands sometimes. When they’re both doing something but want to acknowledge each other’s existence while simultaneously getting contact. But it’s purely platonic.

Holding Frank's hand last night was different from when he holds Lyn-z’s. And maybe Frank felt the same way? 

“Oh,” Gerard whispers, trying very hard to not give his thoughts away.

“You should meet him sometime.”

“Yeah?”

Frank smiles. “Yeah. He’s super cool. I’m gonna talk to him later tonight and maybe you two could like, say hi?”

“Okay,” Gerard finds himself saying.

He’s not sure why he’s okay with meeting Frank’s best friend, but, then again, Frank met Mikey yesterday.

So that’s kinda the same, right?

“Awesome,” Frank says animatedly.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else but then he winces and groans, one hand going up to his arm protectively.

“Frank?” Gerard asks as he leans forward, concerned.

“I’m fine.”

Gerard doesn’t believe him for a second, not when it sounded like Frank was gritting his teeth to get the words out. Is he in pain? 

Has something happened?

But, in an instant, before Gerard can ask him again, Frank sags in his seat and lets out a breath of relief. He looks a bit more pale now, more run down than he did a moment ago. But unharmed.

What the fuck just _happened_?

“Uh, Gee I gotta go. Um. Work just called me in,” Frank explains hurriedly, already standing and shoving his last bite of muffin into his mouth.

“Oh, okay.”

Gerrard tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He has one last question. The most important one.

But if Hell is calling Frank then that must be important. Gerard can’t interfere with that.

Frank must see the look on his face because his expression softens and he pauses in his rush to offer Gerard a brief smile.

“I’ll see you later? I can walk you home again, answer any more questions you have?”

Gerard feels himself smiling as he agrees and watches Frank hurry out the door.

________________________________

_______________________________

Ray is just rounding the corner when he slams into someone. He only just manages to catch himself in time and glances up, prepared to start apologizing. Except, Bob is the asshole standing there scowling at Ray like it was his fault.

Fucking _great_.

It takes a lot of effort for Ray to mumble an apology and not just tell him to go fuck himself.

“Sorry.”

“Where ya goin’ in such a rush?”

Ray fights the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s discovered that there was most definitely more than one ghoul sent after Frank and he _needs_ to warn him before he gets gutted again. 

“Home,” Ray answers easily, forcing his words to flow smoothly and unrushed. “My shift’s over and I have some reading I need to catch up on.”

Bob smiles, like he actually cares.

“Hey, where's that little rat you always got on your heels? Ain’t seen the little fucker around here in a while. They finally transfer him out?”

Ray has to physically bite his tongue to keep from telling Bob where exactly he can shove his ego. Because Ray can’t act like he knows Bob talked to Him about Frank’s assignment. Bob would rat to Him in an instant and then Ray’s entire plan would backfire and lead to Frank getting into more trouble. 

Fuck this sneaking around thing is _goddamn_ stressful.

“He’s on an assignment on Earth, dunno how long he’ll be gone,” Ray answers nonchalantly.

“Ah, shame. Almost miss the little fucker.”

And with that, Bob chuckles and shoulders past Ray.

Once Bob turns the corner and is out of earshot, Ray releases a slow, heavy breath. 

He doesn’t hate easily, doesn’t particularly like violence either, but _fuck_. Ray fucking _longs_ to claw out Bob’s other goddamn eye.

Just the way he talked about Frank. Like he was a worthless, an annoying animal that followed Ray around. _God_ it makes his blood boil. 

But Ray doesn’t have time to stew over this, he _has_ to warn Frank. He’s not sure if he’d be able to save him again and he _really_ doesn’t want to have to find out.

So he takes a quick step before propelling himself forward with a sharp flap of his wings. He can’t fly in here, not with the amount of demons in the halls and not when he’s sorta exhausted from all the snooping he’s been doing. But he can make himself faster, and that’s going to have to be enough.

He needs to be alone when he talks to Frank because he’s never been any good at keeping his face blank while talking to him in their heads, and they'll both be fucked if he gives them away.

It’s less than five minutes later that Ray makes it through his front door. He slouches against it for a second, breathing heavy and telling himself he really needs to work out more, before he hurries upstairs and into his room.

Locking his door for good measure, Ray sits down on the bed and instantly calls Frank. It’s only a second later that Frank’s voice filters into his head.

‘Hey Ray!’

He sounds excited, maybe even relieved, and it brings a smile to Ray’s face.

‘Hey,’ he says again, leaning back until he’s laying down and staring up at his ceiling. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah. I’m great actually. I have something I really need to tell you and-’

‘Frank,’ Ray cuts him off, sighing at the headache building behind his eyes. ‘I found something out.’

There’s a pause, then, ‘Oh. Is it bad?’

‘Yeah. It wasn’t just one ghoul that was brought back. I dunno how many exactly but… but at least a dozen. You gotta be careful, Frank. You _barely_ survived fighting off the first one.’

Ray can feel the flash of fear that tears through Frank but he refuses to feel bad for it. If Frank’s afraid then he won’t be an idot and pick a fight with one of the fucking things. 

Hopefully.

‘Okay, yeah I’ll keep an extra eye out,’ he says at last, voice small like he’s been scolded.

‘Good. They might not bother you so long as you leave them alone. But just to be safe, steer clear of one if you see it, okay? They’ll probably just pick off random humans until they’re full and leave you be.’

Ray can sense Frank’s nod even though he can’t see it. Satisfied, Ray lets his eyes close and he tries to relax a little.

‘Now, what’d you wanna tell me?’

‘Oh,’ Frank pauses and Ray gets a flash of… _something_ through their link. But then, to his surprise, Frank actually pushes up his guard so Ray can’t see anything else. ‘Nothing. It wasn’t important.’

He sounds almost heartbroken but Ray doesn’t understand why.

‘No,’ Ray presses. ‘C’mon. What’d you wanna tell me?’

There's a blank pause, where Ray almost thinks Frank’s ended the call. But when he finally answers Ray can tell he’s lying.

‘I got another person off the list today. That’s all. They almost noticed me and I just was gonna complain. It’s not important.’

Ray frowns. ‘You know better than to let them see you, Frank. That’ll only get you into even more trouble. He’ll have to do clean up and that shit’s never pretty.’

He hadn’t meant it to sound like he was chiding Frank, he’s really not upset with him. It probably wasn’t his fault the human almost saw him. The things can be really smart when they want to be. 

But, if anything, that sense of heartbreak wafting off of Frank grows. Ray can almost feel it in his own chest.

He just doesn't know what’s wrong.

‘Yeah,’ Frank says quietly, something catching in his words. ‘I gotta go sleep it off. Talk to you later.’

And then, just like that, Frank’s gone.

_____________________________________________

Frank doesn’t show up that evening.

It’s almost time to close and there haven't been any customers in at least three hours. Gerard’s already swept and mopped, put all the pastries that are kept overnight into their places.

All he has left to do is watch the last five minutes tick by on his phone. And wait for Frank.

He promised he’d be here. Well, he didn’t _promise_ exactly, but he said he would and that’s basically the same thing. 

Why wouldn’t he come?

Gerard can only think of a few reasons why Frank would just bail on him like this. One being that Gerard ran him off with all those questions. They were personal as hell and, looking back on the conversation, Frank clearly wasn’t comfortable answering a few of them.

If someone tried to pry into Gerard’s past like that, with bulleted questions and an insistence for him to answer, he’d probably freak out. Like. Even just _thinking_ about talking about that shit is enough to make his heartbeat pick up.

So, honestly, he would kind of understand if Frank took off. Gerard knows he can be too much sometimes. He gets too interested, too invested in shit that doesn’t matter. He pushes people away without meaning to.

The other possibilities aren’t much better. 

Frank leaves to go back to Hell because Gerard was someone he had to corrupt. That this was all some ploy to make Gerard bitter or something. Which, probably wouldn’t take that much effort. 

Because he _is_ bitter in a way. Because why _him_. Why did he have to go through all of this? 

Who upstairs turned a blind eye while he suffered so much?

Now, Gerard tries not to keep thoughts like that. He knows that they’re dangerous, that one wrong slip on those thoughts and he’s down a hole he’ll never get out of.

But, that doesn’t stop them from nagging at his mind as he watches it get a minute closer to closing.

He can feel his mood slipping with each passing minute until he comes to the conclusion that he should just go home. He can’t get overtime and he’d really rather not stay at work longer than he has to. He can’t wait around for Frank.

Gerard’s heart is impossibly heavy as he punches out and his hands shake as he crosses the floor to lock the door. He rolls his eyes when his stomach grumbles and he realizes he didn’t eat dinner. Just the thought of making something when he gets home feels like too much of an effort, something that’s beyond him right now. 

Mikey will probably yell at him later, or, more likely, get that same sad look he gets whenever Gerard slips like this. And maybe it’s stupid that such a little thing can make him accidentally fall back into old habits. But right now, he’s too tired and too hurt to care.

As Gerard reaches his hand out to open the front door, a low growling sound rumbles behind him. He turns around in a flash and is met with a snarling dog less than a foot away.

Wait. No. That’s _not_ a fucking dog.

It’s _huge_ , with its head coming up to Gerard’s chest and it’s teeth way too large. The thing snarls again and steps forward, opening its jaw more to reveal razor sharp teeth. Gerard takes a step back but his back hits the cool glass of the door.

He’s trapped. There’s no way he can get the door open in time before this- this _thing_ kills him.

He’s frozen with fear, his entire body numb as his mind races.

The thing steps again, it’s sharp claws clicking on the tile of the floor. It sends a shiver down Gerard’s spine.

He comes to a realization then. 

He’s not ready to die. Not like this. Not right now.

He’s just started to get his life back, to have one worth living again. There’s no way in hell he’s just going to let this fucking overgrown dog take that from him.

Steeling himself, Gerard keeps his eyes trained on the creature as his hand sneaks impossibly slowly towards the bag hanging by his hip. It’s crammed full with stuff and he might just be able to knock the damn thing down long enough to escape.

His fingers wrap around the strap on his shoulder and, slowly, Gerard slides it off until he’s holding the bag with one hand. He has to time this right and it has to be a hard enough hit to give him the chance to make a run for it. 

There won't be any second chances.

Gerard waits until the creature blinks before slinging the bag with all of his strength into the side of it’s head. He doesn’t wait to watch it fall. He turns, grabs the handle of the door and yanks it open.

He doesn’t get the chance to even take a single step before he feels the creature tackle him. Gerard doesn’t register hitting the ground but he does feel the monster’s teeth sink into the back of his shoulder.

He screams then but he can’t even thrash because of the heavy weight of the beast on top of him. His vision blurs and black spots dance before his eyes as pain explodes down his entire left side. It’s blinding and he feels like he’s about to pass out from the force of it as the beast shakes its head, tearing into him further.

Gerard’s thoughts from earlier repeat like a mantra in his head.

He doesn’t want to die here. Please. Please don’t let him die like this.

There’s a loud crash and a bright flash, but Gerard’s only just clinging to consciousness. He can feel himself floating down. Maybe he’ll pass out before the thing eats him. Being eaten alive does not sound like a pleasant way to go.

Not that bleeding to death is any better but it’s not like he has a lot of options here.

Suddenly there’s a growl and he braces himself for the next bite, for its claws to dig into him next. It never comes.

The weight of the creature is suddenly gone and Gerard chokes on the breath he finally manages to take. His lungs seize as he fights to catch his breath after having it restricted for so long. 

There’s noise all around him, things crashing and the sound of electricity. It’s loud enough for Gerard to force his eyes open, for him to push himself up on his elbows- despite how his shoulder screams in pain.

His vision is failing and he can barely believe his eyes when he takes in the scene around him. He must have lost too much blood. He’s hallucinating. Or- or maybe he died and this is Hell.

But, it looks like _Lyn-z_ is fighting the creature.

Gerard watches, jaw dropped, as literal fucking _lightning_ shoots out of her hand and hits the monster square in the chest. At that moment, Frank bursts through the door and skids to a stop at the sight in front of him. The creature doesn’t make a sound as it drops dead, a smoking hole where it’s heart might be. 

Frank stares wide eyed, not even noticing Gerard yet, and makes a strange, shocked noise at Lyn-z.

For her part, Lyn-z is breathing heavily but she wipes her hair off of her forehead and sighs out a long breath. It’s then that Gerard’s arms give out and he collapses back with a groan of pain. His head spins and he can hear Frank and Lyn-z talking but it’s too much. 

He passes out a second later, Frank’s name on his lips.

_______________________

_______________________

Frank feels like he’s about to fucking puke.

He rushes forward the second Gerard falls, not even sparing the other demon a glance. Panic fills him as he pulls Gerard up into his arms and finally notices the huge bloody wound covering his entire left shoulder.

Oh fuck, it’s bad. 

“Why didn’t you _help_ him?” Frank spits, shooting a deadly glare to the other demon.

She’s standing next to Frank, looking down at Gerard like she’s concerned. But she doesn’t _get_ to be worried over him. She’s the fucking reason he’s hurt.

Ghouls only go after demons, it must’ve smelled her in the area and attacked Gerard in confusion. If he dies, Frank is going to fucking _kill_ her.

“I did,” she says simply.

Her eyes flash a hard shade of red and Frank gasps despite himself. Just the brief surge of her power was intense and he sees now that she’s one of the ancient demons. The ones who were probably here when the world popped into existence.

Fuck.

“I-” Frank shakes his head and focuses his attention to Gerard.

The blood is absolutely _pouring_ out of him, way too fast. Humans are so fucking fragile and Frank can feel Gerard’s life slipping. He’s going to die if Frank doesn’t heal him soon.

“I'm taking him home,” Frank tells the other demon, not really expecting an answer. 

“I’ll come with you. I’m his friend.”

Frank gives her a long look but, ultimately, he’s more concerned about Gerard than he is about this other demon. So he doesn’t argue and stands with Gerard’s limp body in his arms.

It’s in moments like these that he wishes he could fly. Time isn’t on their side and if Gerard dies because of this-

“I’ll drive,” says the other demon, already stepping over the dead ghoul and making her way outside.

Frank struggles his way over to her car and climbs into the back with Gerard. He balls Ray’s jacket up and presses it into the wound, whispering apologies even though Gerard doesn’t stir. The other demon speeds down the road and they arrive at Gerard’s house in record time.

_____________________________

Mikey opens the door and freezes. His heart stops in his chest as he takes in the image of his brother, bloody and unmoving in Frank’s arms. Lyn-z stands beside them, a grim expression set into her features.

All Mikey can think about, as he steps aside numbly to let them inside, is the last time he opened the door in the middle of the night like this. Opened it to Gerard barely fucking conscious and so fucked up that he couldn’t even speak.

He thought that that was the worst fear, the worst kind of pain he could experience as he had yelled for his parents and tried to catch Gerard when he collapsed. But this, this is somehow so much worse.

Gerard is so pale and when he gets a glimpse of his shoulder as Frank lowers him to the couch, all he can see is shredded skin and something that suspiciously looks like _bone_. He stands there by Gerard’s feet, numb and unable to move as Lyn-z hurries off to the kitchen. 

Frank crouches down by Gerard’s head and uses his hand to wipe his hair from his forehead gently. 

“Frank,” Mikey says desperately.

He just wants to know what’s going on. Wants to know why the fuck his brother is _bleeding out_ on his couch. But Frank doesn’t answer.

Without a sound, Frank places his hand over the wound on Gerard’s shoulder. Nothing happens at first and Mikey gets a long look at the huge gashes torn deep into his brother. Mikey can see bone, right along his shoulder blade and it makes his stomach churn violently.

What the fuck could _do_ that?

Then, right before Mikey’s eyes, the room grows into a faint red tint and the gaping wounds begin to slowly heal. It takes maybe ten minutes of complete silence before all that’s left is the pale skin of Gerard’s shoulder, streaked by the blood soaking the rags of his shirt.

Frank tilts forward and rests his head on the edge of the couch as Lyn-z comes back in. She’s carrying a change of clothes and a sandwich.

Gently, she nudges Frank and hands him the plate. He takes it gingerly, hands shaking and eyes dull and exhausted.

Mikey’s mind is _trying_ to catch up with what just happened. With the fact that Gerard was just dying but now he’s not. That Frank really _is_ a demon, just like his brother said he was. And that he healed Gerard just now. And, somehow, Lyn-z is in on this too? 

Fuck, Mikey doesn’t know what’s going _on,_ but he’s honestly too afraid to ask.

“Frank,” Lyn-z says under her breath. “Go clean up in the bathroom.”

Silently, Frank stumbles up and wanders into the kitchen.

“Here,” she says once Frank is gone. “Mikey, help me get him changed.”

So Mikey goes through the motions of holding Gerard upright so Lyn-z can pull the blood soaked shirt off of him. He tries to not look at his brother’s bare torso, even though he’s not awake to know Mikey was looking. It just feels wrong, because he knows how self conscious Gerard is about his weight. Even though he’s still so small, so much different than he was when they were kids. Mikey tries not to think about it. 

Lyn-z makes quick work of pulling a large t-shirt over Gerard’s head, being gentle on his previously wounded shoulder. 

“It’s healed but it’s gonna be really tender for a while,” she explains absently. 

They then work together to get Gerard into some loose pajama pants and, once again, Mikey doesn’t look. Maybe it’s the part of him freaking out over how close he just got to losing Gerard. Again.

Maybe it’s because this is way too similar to before. It’s that same fear deep in his gut. The fear for his brother, the horrible thought of losing him. 

It’s too much for Mikey to process. 

Mikey’s just sitting on the end of the couch, Gerard’s feet in his lap as Lyn-z settles down beside him, when Frank comes back through. He’s in a new change of clothes and clean of his brother’s blood, though he looks just as exhausted as before. 

“What the fuck?” Frank demands suddenly, walking over to stand right in front of Lyn-z.

She raises an eyebrow and gives Frank a _The fuck is your problem?_ look.

“This is _your_ fucking fault,” Frank accuses roughly, jerkily motioning to Gerard lying unconscious beside them.

“It’s not-”

“You brought that fuckin’ ghoul to him. He’s _human_.” Frank shouts, furious. “He had no chance to defend himself!” 

Lyn-z calmly stands and Frank takes a single step back.

“I saved his life,” she states lowly. “That ghoul would have finished him off if I hadn’t been there.”

Frank scowls and opens his mouth as if to retaliate, but Lyn-z isn’t done.

“And,” she says sharply. “The ghoul was only there because of _you_.”

Frank scoffs. “Me?”

“You’ve been spending time with Gee, hanging out with him at work. The ghoul sensed your demonic energy and followed it there.”

And then Frank just stops. Mikey watches as the realization hits Frank full force. But Mikey is standing before he’s even registered the decision or finished putting the pieces together.

“I asked you to do _one_ fucking thing!” Mikey shouts, pointing a sharp finger at Frank. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“You almost got him fucking _killed_!”

“Wait, Mikey-”

“No,” he says, cutting Lyn-z off before she can even begin to defend Frank.

Mikey _told_ Frank to keep Gerard safe. That was literally the _only_ fucking thing he asked. 

Gerard is literally all Mikey has and he _can’t_ live without him. 

Frank must have known whatever did this would find Gee. But he still let him get hurt. And that’s _not_ fuckingsomething Mikey can forgive.

He watches Frank’s face fall but then there's a flash in his eyes, like he’s come to a decision.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, not even looking at Mikey or Lyn-z. “You’re right. I- hurt him.”

Frank crouches down next to Gerard again and moves as if he’s about to take his hand, but thinks better of it. He retracts his hand and stands in one motion.

“Tell him I’m sorry. You’re right… this is my fault.”

And then, before Mikey can even say a word, Frank disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.  
> We found out some important stuff today, didn't we?  
> That Gerard shouldn't be underestimated. He's a lot stronger than he looks, in more ways than one <3  
> Lyn-z is just badass. (which we all already knew, just maybe not to the Lighting Out Of Her hands extent XD)  
> And Frank? Well he's trying. He definitely could'a played this a little better huh?  
> Mikey can't catch a break either can he?  
> And, maybe Gerard isn't the only one with a past they're trying to forget? ;) 
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think so please, feel free to leave a comment and yell at me for being cruel hahaha  
> <3


	8. Trust, You said. Who put the Word In Your Head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: (Spoilers, sorry. but i just want you guys to be safe.)  
> *use of a homophobic slur  
> * Gee has a pretty bad breakdown. So just calling it a panic attack and moving on won't do it justice  
> *references to abuse  
> *vague mentions of substance abuse/overdoses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!  
> The only excuse i have for this being so late is that moving and doing adult things is Exhausting. I was just going to put off writing the next chapter until next week, once i'm all moved in and everything. But i just Needed to get this scene out.  
> This chapter was unplanned and isn't even in my notes (well, the reactions are but it wasn't a designated chapter, if that makes sense?). So it's basically a mini, in between chapter full of that good angst. And yeah. this is angsty as hell. Please, please read the trigger warnings for thsi chapter. This one is a little rough.  
> Very big thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for editing these things for me and helping me get my thoughts out! <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!

The first thing Gerard registers when he wakes up is that his head feels like it's splitting in two. It’s a sharp, intense ache right behind his eyes, one that feels like it’s throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He groans under his breath and, distantly, wonders if he’s hungover. 

But, then again, he hasn’t had a drink in well over a year. 

“Gee?” comes Mikey’s quiet voice from somewhere nearby.

He groans out something that might be his brother’s name in response but blearily opens his eyes anyway. Thankfully, the light is just soft enough that he isn’t forced to squint in order to see. It still makes his head throb, but it probably would hurt just as bad even _if_ it were completely dark in here. Wherever _here_ is.

“Wha’ hap’nd?” Gerard mumbles, shifting to get his arms beneath him so he can sit up and get his bearings.

He doesn't get far before he's crying out in pain as what feels like literal _fire_ shoots down his shoulder and entire left side. It’s dull but still somehow strong enough that it takes his breath away. He’s busy trying to breathe through the pain when Mikey’s warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder, pushing him gently back down.

“Easy,” he tells Gerard in a quiet, almost whispering voice.

Gerard frowns but he does as Mikey asks, relaxing back down onto the warmth where he was just laying. The screaming pain in his shoulder fades the second he’s no longer putting his weight onto it and he takes a long moment to try to catch his breath.

In the meantime, he combs through his memories from the other night in an attempt to remember how or why he might have gotten hurt. 

It must have been bad though, whatever happened. Mikey honestly looks pretty shaken by it, given the way he’s hovering over Gerard as if he were a kid. How there’s distinct dark shadows under his eyes that show how little sleep he’s been getting recently.

Mikey catches his eyes and offers him a weak, yet wildly relieved, smile. One that Gerard does his best to return, even though it feels more like a grimace than a real smile.

Now that he’s resting again, and not being an idiot by trying to sit up, the pain has started to fade enough for him to concentrate. He focuses hard and tries to piece together what must have happened.

The last thing Gerard remembers is being at work, talking to Frank. He’d been asking him a bunch of questions about demons and who he is- and then- _then_ he didn’t show up. Even after he’d assured Gerard that he’d be back to walk him home. 

That sharp sting of hurt arises again, from the fact that Frank blew him off, and he’s not sure if he wants to punch him or cry. Maybe both.

“Where’s Frank?” Gerard demands gruffly.

He begins sitting up despite the protests by both Mikey and his shoulder. Batting away his brother’s hands, Gerard drags himself completely upright. His head throbs even worse than before as he twists to pull his shirt down enough for him to inspect his shoulder. 

Except, there’s nothing there to inspect. There’s nothing there, just pale skin and the freckle on his collarbone.

Which is seriously fucked up because he _remembers_ getting his entire shoulder torn apart by that- that _thing_. 

Lyn-z had saved him. He remembers that now too. The way lightning shot from her hands as she took down the beast, almost as if it were nothing.

“How?”

Mikey looks away then, glancing down at his lap like avoiding Gerard’s eyes would make him not have to answer.

“ _How_ ,” Gerard asks again, his voice dropping.

He’s not mad at Mikey. Hell, he’s not really mad at Frank either. He just wants to know what happened and why the fuck his brother is treating it like the end of the world when he’s clearly fine.

“What do you remember?”

That’s not an answer and Mikey knows that. But Gerard humors him simply because his head hurts too badly for him to waste energy arguing with his brother. It would be a pointless battle. Mikey’s just as stubborn as he is and they both know it.

“I was getting ready to leave work,” Gerard recalls, tucking a fallen strand of his hair behind his ear. “Frank hadn’t shown up yet, even after he said he’d walk me home, and then this dog- _thing_ came outta nowhere. It- it attacked me and then I think Lynds was there but… I dunno. It’s really blurry…”

Mikey pulls a long breath and Gerard can see the tension as it sets in his shoulders. He’s halfway expecting him to tell him he’s insane and that he’d imagined the whole thing. 

“That’s- from what I’ve been _told-_ actually pretty close to what happened. Lyn-z saved your life.”

Huh. So he _hasn’t_ completely lost his mind.

And that means that-

“Lyn-z is a demon,” Gerard says abruptly.

It’s less of a question and more of a tentative statement, one where he’s sorta hoping Mikey will correct him. 

Mikey just nods. “Yeah. That whole conversation was… interesting, ‘t say the least.”

Maybe he should be more shocked by that. He _should_ be freaking out more. But he’s not. He saw her fight first hand and that alone tells them there’s no way she’s human.

Of course, it hurts to have it be confirmed that she lied to him. That she kept that part of her life a secret. But he does his best to not dwell on that.

“Did she heal me?”

Gerard has to ask because it doesn’t _feel_ like he’s been out of it long enough for an injury like the one he got to heal. And, to make matters even weirder, there’s no scar left behind. The spot where he _remembers_ getting torn into is nothing more than a dull ache. 

Although, he _does_ feel pretty weak but he’s still in much better shape than he should be, given what happened.

“No,” Mikey says after a pause. “That was Frank.”

A warm, pleasant feeling blooms in Gerard’s chest at Frank’s name. He should have known Frank wouldn’t just leave him. He healed an old bruise for him, so of _course_ Gerard should have known he wouldn’t just let him die. 

He’s probably in the other room and Mikey’s just being his overprotective self by keeping everyone else away. Which, Gerard _does_ appreciate because he feels like absolute shit. But he also really, really needs to talk to Frank. To thank him. But to also get the full story of why he was late showing up. 

Against Mikey’s protests, Gerard drags himself upright before swinging his legs over the side of the couch and standing. At first, his head rushes and he nearly falls back down, but it subsides easily enough and he’s able to keep himself up despite the momentary weakness.

Mikey hovers by his side, a look in his eyes Gerard hasn’t seen since… well, since his first night back home. 

Regardless, he glances around the dark living room. He half expects to see Frank poke his head out of one of the door frames, but the kitchen is dark and the door to the basement is firmly closed. 

There _is_ , however, a lump on the other couch just a smidge too large to be Frank. It must be Lyn-z. Gerard can tell that she’s curled up under a warm blanket, snoring softly. He can’t see her face but she looks peaceful.

The image makes him smile. She deserves a good nap after saving his ass like that.

“Gerard,” Mikey says, stepping forward to grab his arm. “You should sit down.”

He shrugs him off. He’s _fine_. Now that he’s up, he’s not feeling all that bad and, honestly, all he wants right now is some coffee. Who knows how long he’s been asleep and half of his headache could probably be cured with a good, strong cup. 

“Want some coffee?” he asks instead, not waiting on an answer before making his way to the kitchen.

Mikey trails behind him, strangely quiet. Even for him.

Has all of this really scared him _that_ much?

Was Gerard out of it for a long time? Is this like in those movies where the person wakes from a coma and they don’t realize everything around them has changed until it’s almost too late?

Gerard doubts it, seeing as Mikey looks exactly the same. He pushes that ridiculous thought aside. He has enough weird shit to deal with as is.

In no time at all the coffee is brewed and the two of them are sitting silently at the kitchen table. Gerard takes a long, slow drink, savoring the bitter taste and the instant rush of caffeine that flows into his system. It feels like ages since he’s last had a cup.

But when he looks over to Mikey, Gerard finds him just staring down into his mug. He hasn’t even had a sip.

“Mikes,” Gerard urges, pressing his foot against Mikey’s under the table. “ ‘m fine now. You said it yourself, Frank healed me.”

Mikey takes a shaky breath and finally looks up at him. But he doesn’t say anything and that makes Gerard begin to actually worry.

“ _Seriously_ , Mikey, what’s wrong?”

“You almost died,” he whispers, as if the words would be impossible to say any louder. “You nearly bled out right there on the fucking _couch_.”

Mikey’s voice breaks but there’s almost something more to what he’s saying. More than just fear or sadness. It sounds like anger. 

Is he mad at Gerard for scaring him so badly?

Fuck. He didn’t _mean_ to get hurt but he can understand why Mikey would be so upset. 

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I tried to fight back but it- it was so strong. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry and I-”

“Stop.”

Gerard gasps at the anger in Mikey’s voice and unconsciously shrinks in on himself. He’s never heard his brother talk like that and it only serves to make his guilt for getting hurt worse.

In favor of doing something stupid, like running out of the room or crying, he stares at the pattern in the wood of the table. He traces the lines and notices how the darker lines swirl around the lighter ones in abstract pictures. He blinks harshly to try and keep the tears at bay, waiting on Mikey to start shouting.

But he doesn’t _blame_ Mikey for getting mad. Gerard has a history with being too reckless for his own good and there’s about a million and one ways he could have fought back better. He should have grabbed a knife from the kitchen and defended himself. Or done the smart thing and bolted out to the street.

But he’s an idiot who freezes in situations like that and now he’s scared Mikey yet again. One of these days his brother was bound to get fed up with having to deal with Gerard like that and it makes sense that this would be the final straw. 

It doesn’t make the thought of his brother actually being mad at him any less painful, though. He owes Mikey everything, even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes.

“Fucking-” Mikey nudges him hard with his foot. “Look at me, idiot.”

It takes everything in him to look up at Mikey. But when he does he’s surprised to find no anger in his eyes. Well. There _is_ anger there but… but it’s not directed at him. 

“I-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mikey interrupts quickly, leaning forward to put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. You just really fuckin’ scared me last night and everything’s a mess right now but I _shouldn’t_ have directed my anger towards you. I’m not mad at you and you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But who-”

“Frank,” Mikey spits, almost as if his name was a curse.

“ _Frank_?”

Mikey looks away and slowly, buying time, takes a drink. He keeps the mug close to his face, hiding his mouth when he speaks.

“I’m pissed at _him_. Not you.”

Gerard nods numbly, trying to sort his emotions out. To figure out what is going on.

Because he’d been so sure Mikey was upset with him. It made sense. But he can’t wrap his head around why his brother would be mad at Frank. What had Frank done wrong, other than being late? And it’s not like Gerard had time to tell Mikey that he hadn’t shown up. 

“Why are you mad at Frank?” he asks hesitantly, almost certain he’s not going to like the answer.

“He’s a fucking idiot. That thing that attacked you, it was a ghoul. A creature who seeks out a demon’s energy and eats them. It _found you_ because Frank spent so much fucking time around you that you _smelled_ like a demon to it. And he _knew_ that those things were out there and _still_ left you alone.”

It hits Gerard like a blow to the chest. It feels like his entire world is being twisted, like the air in his lungs is being forced out with every word Mikey says. 

Because Frank _knew_ something like this could happen? And he just so _happened_ to not be there when the thing attacked?

Gerard’s theory from the other day, about Frank only being here to check Gerard’s name off the list of damned souls or whatever, it’s starting to feel more and more like the truth. And he can’t fucking breathe because of it.

Because he thought Frank _liked_ him. Why the _fuck_ would he go through all that trouble of- of being nice to Gerard. Of complimenting him and making him actually feel fucking _wanted_ for once. Only to leave. To just to disappear and leave Gerard alone _again_.

It feels like a knife tearing into his chest, like that beast’s fangs digging into his skin all over again. And he should be used to this by now, people just using him and throwing him away the second they’re done. The second they realize how fucked up he is. But it hurts just as bad as the first time.

They always leave. _Everyone_.

Friends from school who swore they’d stay in contact during college. Roommates from art school who would call him their best friend. Who would smile and take pictures of him with his boyfriend for their photography classes because they were just _such a good couple_.

Who turned a blind eye when he tried to call them when things first started to get bad. The people who told him that it was just an argument. That every couple fights. That he’s a guy. Guys don’t get abused. 

To the way his father won’t even look at him anymore. How he thinks Gerard’s just another drop-out, a lazy millennial who moved back home because the real world was too scary.

Gerard takes a shuttering, gasping breath against the weight of all of this washing over him. Against the too-real pain coursing through him. It feels like drowning, even though he can still feel his feet against the cool floor of their kitchen. Can hear Mikey, somehow beside him now, telling him to breathe and rubbing his back.

But why should he?

Everytime he claws his way back up to something _close_ to happiness, he gets torn back down. Every. Single. Time. 

Maybe it’s a fucking sign. Maybe it’s the universe telling him it’s fucking pointless and he should just stay down. 

He could have fallen in love with Frank. And that’s the thought that hurts the worst. That cuts the deepest. That makes him ache for the numbness he found before. How drowning in pills sucked but it was _still_ less painful than waking up to the realization that no one really cared. Especially not his fiance. And, now, not Frank either.

He barely manages to pry himself out of Mikey’s grip but he doesn’t even turn around when his brother calls his name. Gerard somehow manages to stumble his way to his bedroom. His head spins and his stomach cramps as if he’s about to be sick. 

But it’s not like he has all that much in his stomach anyway. He’d barely eaten the day he got hurt. Which is somewhat ironic now, isn’t it? How he tried to convince himself he wasn’t guilty about such a stupid thing before all of this. 

But it doesn’t matter now, the progress or whatever thin little veil you wanted to put on the fact that he had to force himself to eat every day so Mikey wouldn’t worry. 

He laughs to himself as he falls down face first onto his bed. It’s a strange, possibly manic sound but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Just as quickly as the uncontrollable laughter hits him, it’s gone. And replaced with this burning sort of anger, of hopelessness. He wants to fucking _scream_. To destroy every single fake trophy of his fucking quote on quote _progress_.

There is no progress. It’s not real. _Not_ for him.

All it is is ignoring that voice in his head. Telling himself that he’s doing better. Even when he’s not. Even when all he wants to do is fucking claw out his own insides so maybe, _maybe_ he’d fit into the same sized jeans as his brother. Or tear out his hair with his nails so he can convince himself that he _doesn’t_ want to feel pretty sometimes. That he isn’t some fucking faggot freak who likes to wear skirts. That doesn’t need a whole cocktail of pills just to muddle through his day.

An abrupt, desperate knocking begins on the door to the basement. Mikey’s voice calls to him, begging him to open up. But he can’t. He won’t.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

He’s a fucking idiot for ever thinking he was more than this right here. More than just a throwaway friend. More than mental breakdowns in a dark, disgusting bedroom of his parents’ basement. 

He’s _tired_ of getting hurt. He’s so sick of always ending up here. 

He _thought_ he was ready. That he was able to open up again. He fucking _trusted_ Frank.

And look where that got him?

“Gerard!” Mikey’s muffled voice shouts from behind the door. “Gee, _please_ open up!”

He hates being the cause of his brother’s worry. Hates that it’s always him who has to pick Gerard up after these things. 

Mikey has sacrificed so much for him and he just, doesn’t understand why. What’s the point? 

Does he see some sort of light at the end of all of this that Gerard can’t?

There’s a strange noise, like a static shock, and the door bursts open. Mikey’s footsteps hurry down the steps, tripping and stumbling in his rush.

“Gee!”

His hand reaches out to Gerard’s shoulder and he turns him around in one fluid movement. Gerard blinks up at Mikey in shock. But he’s taken back by the tears streaming down Mikey’s face.

And, somehow, it’s enough. The worst of this wave passes as Mikey pulls him up and against his chest. His brother makes a choked noise, somewhere between a sob and his name.

It’s not like it matters. Frank’s gone and Gerard is probably going to live the rest of his life in this stupid, dirty basement. And it’s his own fault.

But, sitting here with Mikey makes those thoughts a little easier to ignore. His arms are wrapped so tightly around him, holding him close like he can’t bear to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard manages to mumble into the fabric of Mikey’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

His head aches even worse now and his shoulder feels like it’s on fire. But all he can do is slowly wrap his arms around Mikey’s waist and hold on. 

A self aware part of him knows that this was just the worst of it. That when he calms down even more, everything won’t feel as hopeless. That he won’t hate himself as much. 

But it feels so real right now. So consuming that the logic he knows feels light years away. Out of reach.

In the moment, his head screams that he’s just hurting Mikey. That there’s no point letting himself be comforted by his brother. It’s just going to happen again. 

But Gerard pushes those thoughts down with every ounce of his strength. Which, admittedly isn’t much right now. He’s so tired. More than just from his shoulder. 

He’s so, so tired of this. Of always ending up back here. Half-shattered pieces of a person that someone else has to help him put back together.

But all he can do is cling to his baby brother and try and focus on the comforting words Mikey is repeating like a prayer.

He tells himself that it’ll pass. It has to. 

_______________________________________________

A few hours later- or a lifetime, Gerard isn’t sure, Lyn-z comes down the steps. 

She’s carrying a glass of water and when she notices that he's awake, she gives him a soft smile. One that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

She places a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder as she sets the water on the nightstand.

Mikey’s curled up against Gerard's side, finally asleep. He has a deathgrip around Gerard's middle. 

After they'd both cried themselves out, Mikey had passed out pretty quickly. Leaving Gerard to sit here and get lost in his own head.

But he needed this time to figure it all out and he kinda appreciates the fact that Lyn-z and his brother have more or less left him alone. 

Having Mikey beside him helps keep him grounded, keeps his thoughts from running wild.

This time to think has helped him calm down and make all of this feel a little less earth-shattering. But, even though he’s not completely freaking out anymore, it still hurts. He should have known the hurt wouldn't go away but he's more… sad now than anything else. 

He’s aware now that it’s not his fault that Frank turned out to be an asshole. That he decided to just leave him like this. 

It’s not his fault and he’s really too tired to try and be angry anymore. So yeah. It hurts. A lot. Like an open wound that just won’t stop bleeding and an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, hard to forget. But, with Mikey literally almost laying on top of him and Lyn-z covering the two of them in a blanket, he can almost manage to ignore it.

To tell himself he's okay. That he's better off without assholes like Frank.

“Lynds?” Gerard rasps, surprised by how hoarse his voice comes. 

She hums and sits down on his other side, fussing over the blanket to give him time to get his words in order.

“You’re a demon?”

It’s more of a statement than anything. But he needs to know for sure. So that he can know for sure it wasn't just his imagination. That she really isn’t human. 

“Yes,” She says with a sigh. But not an upset one. More so as if she’d known this conversation would have to happen eventually.

“But also, sort of not.”

“What’d you mean?”

“I _am_ a demon. A very old one at that. But I gave up that life a long, long time ago. I’m essentially human now. My powers are- _were_ dormant.”

“But why would you give that up? All your powers and- and being a demon?” Gerard asks.

He hadn't even been aware that that was _possible_.

“Because Hell isn’t… it isn’t _living_ down there. It’s suffocating. All the rules. All the hypocrisies. I’d much rather live here, where I can watch Disney movies with you and Mikey. And go to the beach and lay in the sun for hours. I don’t _need_ my powers to do those kinds of things.”

Gerard frowns but, to his surprise, some of that hurt from her hiding this from him lessens. He can understand that. Finding small things worth living for. 

Like the preorder he has on this new comic that comes out on Christmas. And movie nights. The book on his shelf that he just borrowed from the library.

He smiles a little as he remembers his mother’s cookies the other day. 

Life isn’t big moments. It’s the small ones. The handful of minutes where you just feel _alive_. 

He had thought he felt one of those times with Frank. When they hung out. When he worked up the courage to hold his hand. It had felt like a moment worth living for. But now, Gerard isn’t _sure_ what those moments were. If they were ever good at all.

“Okay, I understand.”

She gives him a proud look, like she hadn’t expected him to be so understanding. 

“I’m sorry I kept that from you," she tells him sincerely, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "But I just- I’m basically human. I can live and die just like anyone else.”

“But- you said you’re really old? You don’t look more than like- 25.”

She takes a breath but there’s a flash of amusement in her eyes. “I’m technically immortal in the sense that, unless I get killed by someone or die from disease, I _will_ live forever. My powers keep me alive and, because even while they’re dormant, they never really go away, I retain my immortality.”

Gerard takes a moment to wrap his head around _that_ before asking, “So how old _are_ you?”

She gives him a mischievous smirk and it’s so normal, so refreshing after today, that it actually makes some of the heavy fog surrounding him dissipate.

“A few millennia. I’ve lost exact count.”

“That’s so fucking _cool_ ,” Gerard blurts, feeling a real smile pull at his lips.

This is what he needed. A distraction. And he’s so, so thankful to Lyn-z for just being here right now. For sticking with him even after how he acted earlier.

“The other demons don’t think so, but thank you, Gee.”

“What’re you thanking me for?” he asks softly, confused by the sudden sincerity in her words.

“I am just as bad as Frank for lying to you." She admits quietly. "There’s a possibility that my energy helped lead the ghoul to you as well. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s okay. I mean- I’m upset you didn’t tell me. But like- I can kinda understand your reasoning. And besides, at least _you_ cared enough to stay and explain yourself. Frank just fuckin’ _left_.”

“I’m sure he has his reasoning-”

“No,” Gerard cuts her off with a sharp shake of his head. “He’s the one who lied and didn’t even _attempt_ to make it right. He just left right-” Gerard nearly chokes on the word. “Right when I needed him. I- I thought that he and I might be able to have something. But I’m _done_ letting assholes like him in.”

The look Lyn-z gives him is a silent sort of understanding. As if she knows what he means but doesn’t exactly agree. But she doesn’t try to talk him out of it and that’s proof enough that he needs to move on from Frank. From- whatever it was that they had.

He knew it the other day. That if it came down to it, he would have to choose himself over their relationship. But, now that he’s staring that decision in the face, it feels so much harder.

But he has to. He has to move on. He has to forget about Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter Im gonna have a Lot to say that'll reflect back onto this one. But we have to get through some important things next chapter for me to say them. If that makes sense. Basically, I'll explain my thought process and everything next week so please don't be mad for the extra, extra angst in this one.  
> Okay.  
> So, Lyn-z is a Queen. Which, judging from the comments on every chapter she's been in, is something we all agree on.   
> Gerard made the hard decision, but, given everything that's happened, is probably the right one ;)  
> Frank is who tf knows where and is in deep shit. He really screwed up this time dudes. That "asshole" character tag is really making sense now haha  
> And Mikey honest to god deserves a break and a Hug. 
> 
> I'll try and have the next chapter up within a week, but no promises. The world is crazy rn and also being an adult sucks. So we'll see. Please forgive me for taking so long on this one, only to give you angst <3


	9. A stitch Away from Making it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * drug mention  
> *homophobic jerks make an appearance  
> *Very mild homophobic slurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This is try number 2 of posting this chapter. I originally posted it last night as I was getting out of my car for work. BUt I had copied it to archive with my phone because I don't have wifi at the moment and it only copied half the text. So it was up for like 8 hours until someone thankfully commented and told me. I hope the end notes didn't spoil any of the stuff that wasn't posted but I'm not even sure what i typed there last night because i was so tired hahaha  
> so moral of the story, don't be impatient and post a chapter through your phone haha. Hopefully this time it'll be error free because Iv'e taken my time going through it and borrowing my roommate's hotspot.   
> And as always I have to thank @i-like-to-wander-around-here for all of her help and support on this fic. I seriously owe so much to her and she is amazing <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Gerard doesn’t go into work the next day.

A part of him wants to, just to retain that shred of normalcy after the craziness he’s gone through lately. But as the time neared for him to have to get up and start getting ready, he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Lyn-z has assured him that she talked to their boss yesterday, explained away the damage to the store as a robbery and that Gerard was the one who scared the person off. Gerard doesn’t think that’s all that believable, seeing as he’s like- the _least_ confrontational person ever, but their boss bought it. So he has a full week of paid time off that he has no idea how to spend.

He’d convinced Mikey to go into work today, just so he wouldn’t sit in Gerard’s room all day looking so sad. They’re going to have to talk this evening, he knows that. But maybe having some time alone will help him figure out what he wants to say to his brother. 

He wants to be careful, to make sure he doesn’t make Mikey think any of this was his fault or anything. Because it wasn’t. But trying to figure out how to explain to his brother that he’s just heartbroken over a guy who he barely knows is going to be difficult. 

Gerard knows he got attached way too quickly, that he jumped in over his head with barely a breath beforehand. He’d tried to make up for that the other night, by convincing himself that he was being safe with all of those questions.

He wasn’t. Being safe that is. And he knows that now.

He just… wishes that he hadn't found out this way. That Frank had been honest with him, or at least stayed after the ghoul attacked.

Gerard sighs and combs a hand through his hair. He can feel the grease sticking to his hand and winces in disgust. He hasn’t showered since before work the other night so part of this grease might actually be his own blood. The thought makes his stomach roll but he just wipes his hand off on his pajama pants. 

Getting up to shower would require possibly running into his mom. He can hear her walking around upstairs and he’s nowhere near ready to talk to her. Not today.

Mikey told him that she knows something’s up, but that the most she knows is that something happened when he was at work and he’s taking some time off because of it. Gerard can practically _feel_ her worrying through the floor. But she hasn’t confronted him yet, so that means she must trust him at least enough to not assume he’d spiral completely. That’s a comforting thought, all things considered.

Gerard studies the rough lines on the page in front of him to try and distract himself. The harsh light of his cheap desk lamp against the darkness of the room around him makes the sketch feel so much more… alive. Like it’s the only thing his eyes can focus on. 

He hates that this is what he ended up drawing but what else did he expect? He had let his hands do whatever they wanted as he spaced out for who knows how long. He should have expected to be staring at a picture of Frank on his page.

The face is a little off, the jaw a bit too sharp and the arms awkward and stiff. But he’s gotten the eyes right. That warmth that overflows in them, that fills him with a sense of safety every time he would look into them. And he hates that just looking at this stupid picture of him is enough to create an echo of that feeling.

He’s not sure if he hates himself or Frank more, but he slams the book shut with more force than was necessary to break the spell that feels like it’s being held over him. Groaning, Gerard leans forward until his head rests in his arms and tries to get his head straight.

He misses Frank, that much he can’t deny, but he also _never_ wants to see him again. The hurt Frank caused him is damn near unforgivable, just _leaving_ him like this. Without a word. Without an explanation or anything.

So Gerard knows that he has every single right to hate Frank. And he _is_ mad enough to hate him. 

But there’s also that little voice in his head that reminds him of how much he likes Frank too. How happy he made him feel. How he seemed to actually care.

And that’s what’s so confusing to Gerard. Because everything with Frank felt so real. So genuine.

Frank acted like he really _did_ care about him. And that’s what keeps Gerard going around in circles. He doesn’t know what to think anymore, what was true and what was just Frank lying through his teeth.

His phone dings and Gerard startles, pulling a sharp breath before forcing himself to relax. He gives himself a moment before lifting his head and glancing at his phone beside him.

It’s a text, from Mikey.

‘Off work now. Class canceled bc waterline broke. B home in 30.’

Gerard texts back a quick okay and stands. His head spins once he’s upright and he has to lean against the desk until he can move without risking falling. 

Lyn-z had said he’d be feeling some of the after effects of his injury for a few days, something about Frank being a shitty healer. So he just squeezes his eyes shut and waits it out.

Finally, the weakness passes and he’s able to walk across the room to turn on his overhead light. The light makes it look even messier down here, with the clothes scattered everywhere and the half eaten meals forgotten on random surfaces. But Gerard doesn’t feel like cleaning up, doesn’t really see a point. It’s always a mess down here and it’s not like anyone other than Mikey and Lyn-z are going to see it, anyway.

Though, he does snag a cold chicken tender off of his plate from earlier today, shoving it into his mouth before his mind can convince him not to. He has to keep his strength up if he wants to get rid of the stupid ache in his shoulder and the random bouts of dizziness. It’s a good enough excuse, he supposes. So long as he doesn’t think on it for longer than a minute.

Gerard distracts himself with rummaging through his dresser and pulling out a well worn pair of jeans, his favorite. There’s patches he sewed onto the back pockets and a few small designs done in fabric paint along the legs as well. Nothing _too_ political but still enough for people to know he won't be taking shit. Besides, it’ll match well with the plan he’s forming in the back of his head.

He also grabs a soft, oversized Misfits shirt he’s had for ages and throws it over his arm as well. He spends a few moments eyeing the drawer in his dresser where he knows his makeup bag is hidden. It calls to him, reminding him how nice it would be to put on something simple. He can’t just let the few products he has left go to waste in a drawer, right?

And, if he’s gonna go full Teen Breakup Movie tonight, he wants to at least have the fun makeover scene.

That’s good enough for him to snatch the bag and hide it between his clean clothes before heading upstairs. He pauses at the top of the stairs though, heart skipping a beat when he sees his father sitting on the couch, watching tv. And, thanks to Gerard’s shitty fucking luck, he looks over at the sound of the basement door closing.

“Finally up eh?”

Gerard swallows nervously but nods his head. He doesn’t trust his voice. 

“Don’t you got work or something? Or did you quit already?”

His father says it like they’re talking about the traffic and Gerard isn’t sure what hurts more. The fact that he doesn’t think Gerard can even keep a job, or that his father isn’t surprised he’s missing work. Both make him feel like shit. Like a failure who lives in his parents’ basement.

“It was broken into,” Gerard speaks up softly, repeating the lie Lyn-z told their boss and praying his father falls for it. “I have the rest of the week off.”

His father gives him a long look, like he’s just told him he quit his job to become a full time honeybee therapist or something. It makes Gerard want to slink back down the steps and forget ever wanting to go outside, the thought of the fun things he wanted to do tonight overshadowed by the ache in his chest.

“That why you been such a bum today?” his father asked with one eyebrow cocked. 

Gerard hates that he looks like Mikey when he does that. 

“I wasn’t feeling well-”

“Hush,” his father interrupts, waving a hand at him like he’s an annoying fly. “Th’ commercials are off and I don’t want miss my show.”

Gerard mumbles a quiet apology and scurries to the kitchen. His eyes sting with unshed tears and he has to lean against the wall so he doesn’t fall down completely.

It wasn’t like his father was particularly mean today. Hell, this was practically a good conversation given their track record. But it just feels like too much when it’s added onto everything else right now.

“Gee,” his mother calls from the stairway.

He barely has time to stand up straight and wipe his eyes before she’s walking into the kitchen. She has a laundry basket on her hip, full of frankly _rancid_ clothes that look to be Mikey’s, and headphones dangling around her neck.

“Ah good,” she says brightly. “I was just about to knock on your door. I’m doing a load and I wanted to see if you had any dirty clothes I could take?”

Gerard clears his throat and glances down at the clean clothes in his arms. 

“ ‘m about to shower. I can leave what I’m wearin’ now outside th’ door if you want?” he offers quietly.

Normally he takes care of his own dirty clothes, simply because his mother already puts up with him living here as a full grown adult. The least he can do is wash his own dirty underwear. Not that his mother doesn’t try to do things for him, he just normally beats her to it. She works too hard, anyway. 

He’s a bit of a momma’s boy, if you couldn’t tell. But his mom is amazing and she deserves the world, even if she isn’t perfect. 

“That’ll be fine,” she assures him. “ I only need a few more to make it a full load. I’ll come back up once I get these in the machine.”

Gerard nods silently and watches her head into the living room. She doesn’t say a word to his father and he can faintly hear the washing machine lid close over the sound of his show.

It takes considerable effort, but Gerard is at last able to drag himself up the steps to the bathroom. He quickly sheds his clothes and sets them in a neat pile right outside the door before quickly stepping into the shower. 

He doesn’t turn on the light as he washes up, if only to avoid at least one breakdown this week. But, for once, that isn’t something that pesters the back of his mind. He’s solely focused on the comfort of the hot water and how tonight it seems to melt the tension from his body is waves. 

Just as he’s lathering the citrus scented shampoo into his hair, he hears the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. He thinks it’s his mom for a second but whoever it is doesn’t pause in front of the bathroom door, instead they trudge into the bedroom across the hall. Mikey must be home.

That brings a smile to Gerard’s face and he even hums a bit as he begins massaging the conditioner into his hair. He’d been worried that moving his left shoulder and arm enough to shower was going to be painful, seeing as most things have been since he got hurt. But, the longer he stands under the spray, the heat from the water really does make the low ache lessen and even helps clear his mind a bit more.

He still feels like shit, don’t get him wrong, but it’s easier to ignore and he can feel his mood lightening the longer he stands here.

By the time he’s stepping out of the shower and at last flicking on the light- only after he’s tugged the shirt over his head first- Gerard’s phone already has another text from Mikey. It’s a meme, with the words ‘elmo is a sex god’ behind the change my mind guy. Gerard snorts and instantly tries to burn that image out of his head forever.

He tells Mikey as such and sets his phone on the counter while he gets into his jeans. When he glances into the foggy mirror, Gerard takes a second or two to try and figure out what he wants to do with his hair.

At the moment it’s sopping wet and laying in thick, dark strands around his face. He debates blowdrying it and borrowing some of his mom’s moose that’ll make it curl ever so slightly. It usually looks pretty when he does it like that, seeing as it’s closest to how his hair naturally lays. Or, _would_ lay if he hadn’t burned it to a crisp with dye. Though, if he washed it regularly it’d probably be pretty wavy but that’s a lot more effort than he usually has to spare. 

Or. He could also straighten it, go for the full punk kid look. That’d be cool. He hasn’t done that in a while, actually. 

Gerard frowns and leans away from the mirror, considering what look would be best tonight. He could always just let it air dry and have it be all stringy in his face until then. And if it’s too fuzzy when it’s dry he can bring a hair tie for later.

Smiling as his mind’s made up, Gerard tucks a handful of his hair behind his ear on each side and unzips his makeup bag. He only has a stick of eyeliner, a smoky eye kit from the dollar store that he has never used, and some foundation that’s a shade too pale for him. Which is ironic because he’s seriously ghostly compared to people who, you know, actually go _outside_.

He squirts some foundation on his hand and carefully starts to dab it on.

Once he’s satisfied with how that looks, he carefully smudges some of the lightest grey in the palette across his eyelid. His hand shakes a little as he does so, a mixture of nerves and lack of practice. It’s been so long since he’s worn actual makeup and even longer since he’s been out in public with it on. The thought alone is terrifying, enough to make him sort of sick to his stomach. But he also _has_ to do this, in a way.

He’s ready, has probably been ready for a while now, actually. Not even the little voice in the back of his head can argue that this feels right. He enjoys the process of putting on makeup, of picturing the outcome in his head and slowly making it a reality. Maybe he’s too much of a weird art kid, but this is a lot like making traditional art.

He usually has the image in his mind of what he wants the drawing or painting to look like and each movement of his hand brings that image out into the word. It’s therapeutic in the sense that he can get lost in it. That the only limit is what his own mind can come up with.

Gerard uses his finger to smudge the edges of the eyeshadow a bit more, until it sort of fades out into the pale foundation. He leans back in to carefully line his eyes with a thin line of eyeliner and then he’s done.

While it’s not a natural look in the sense that his eyelids aren’t usually this shade of grey, it isn’t bold enough for people to immediately know he’s wearing makeup. 

He smiles at his own reflection, reveling for a moment about how much of a difference this little bit of makeup has done for his mood. 

He looks pretty. 

Hell, he _feels_ pretty and it makes something pleasant and warm flow through him for the first time in a long time.

He’s still smiling to himself as he opens the bathroom door and knocks on Mikey’s door. When he hears a quiet ‘come in’ he turns the knob and steps in.

Gerard finds Mikey lying sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a plate of pizza rolls resting on his stomach that he’s eating slowly. He doesn’t look up when Gerard comes in and just continues to type something one handedly on his phone.

Awkwardly, and beginning to feel some of his anxiety threatening to return over the thought of Mikey seeing him with makeup on, Gerard sits down at the desk. There’s a textbook open on top, displaying that classic painting of the lady sleeping with the demon-thing sitting on her.

The image brings back memories from when he was in school as he tried to figure out what the fuck these painters were smoking to make them come up with shit like this. Whatever was in their weed must have been hella good. Gerard’s only a little jealous.

“Lynds says she called you but you didn’t answer,” Mikey speaks up, grunting as he reaches for another pizza roll.

“I didn’t know she called.” 

He checks his phone anyway and finds one missed call from Lyn-z, from less than five minutes ago. Jesus these two get ahold of each other fast.

“I was showering,” Gerard defends quietly, not sure why he doesn’t just admit he was busy doing his makeup.

Mikey’s _gonna_ find out the second he looks at him. Which, of course, is right now.

He lifts his head, mouth open and eyes still on his phone like he’s about to read whatever Lyn-z said to him, but his eyes flit over to Gerard and he freezes. Instantly Gerard's heart stops and he’s waiting on Mikey to say something mean. Tease him for putting on makeup to get over a breakup like he’s some teenage girl. 

“When’d you do that?” Mikey asks softly, though his face remains annoyingly blank.

Gerard stutters and has to look away, suddenly feeling so foolish for pretending like some makeup would erase everything that’s happened over the past few days.

“Just now,” he admits, rubbing the hem of his shirt and trying to let the familiar feeling keep him calm.

The bed rustles and groans as Mikey stands, but Gerard can’t bring himself to look up. He feels so stupid now. He thought Mikey would understand but this- this lack of a reaction is not what he was expecting. And it hurts that his brother is probably going to chuck the container of makeup wipes they used for their short film at him and tell him to clean up.

But, to his surprise, Mikey walks right past him and flicks on the overhead light. Confused, Gerard glances up at his brother.

“You did this in 10 minutes?” Mikey asks, surprising Gerard enough to where he can only nod. “It looks nice. You’re seriously really good at this, dude.”

Gerard’s feels heavy relief wash over him and he can’t help the beaming smile that worms its way onto his face. He should have known Mikey was just being a dramatic bitch. He kind of hates him for the unnecessary anxiety, but he can tell Mikey didn’t realize he was causing it.

“Thanks. I um, realized I was ready, ya know?”

Mikey nods seriously, like he completely understands what Gerard means, and that makes the last of his fear fade away. 

“You look good.”

Gerard just nods. He _feels_ good.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the store? I kinda just wanna get out of the house…”

“ ‘course, Gee. Here,” he hands Gerard the plate of pizza rolls and starts rummaging around in his closet for something to change into.

Gerard nibbles on a few of the pizza rolls until Mikey is ready, attempting to keep his mind clear of anything to do with Frank or makeup. He is mostly successful. 

Until Mikey comes back from the bathroom with his own smudging of eyeliner around his eyes. Neither of them acknowledge it as they climb into their mom’s car they're borrowing. It’s a quiet sort of support that Mikey always is so good at and Gerard is so thankful to have him as a brother. Maybe he got really lucky for having his little brother be his best friend.

____________________________________________________ 

It’s dark by the time they get to the store and Gerard breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that the parking lot is nearly empty. The less people in the store, the less chance of someone being a dick to him. 

He’s still shaking though as he and Mikey walk through the automatic doors. A blast of warm air hits him and he glances around the nearest isles nervously. 

They’ve walked in on the women’s section, which Mikey probably did on purpose after Gerard told him why they were coming here on the way over. But there doesn’t appear to be that many people here, so that’s a plus. 

There’s just an older lady looking through some shirts on a display and a middle aged woman talking on the phone in the next aisle over. 

Gerard takes a long, steadying breath and starts walking down the nearest aisle. Mikey follows close by, quiet and just letting him go at his own pace. At first, Gerard’s sure that his fear is going to keep him from finding anything he would actually like, but soon enough his eye catches one of the displays. 

He bee-lines over and reaches his hand out to touch the soft fabric of the skirt on the top of the pile. It’s pale blue, with small sharks patterned over it. Carefully, Gerard lifts it and lets it unfold in front of him.

The skirt is just long enough to go past his knees and he’s already thinking about how cute it’d look with a dark grey shirt tucked into it. It would probably look good with some flats and maybe a darker version of the eyeshadow he has on right now.

He looks over to Mikey and holds the skirt up to his waist. 

“What do you think?”

Mikey hums approvingly. “It’s cute. Th’ sharks are fuckin’ adorable.”

Gerard can’t help but agree. It’ll be the perfect mix of punk and soft and he _loves_ it.

After checking the size, he’s pleased to find that it’ll fit him perfectly. Almost like it’s meant to be. Mikey holds out a shopping basket for him to carefully put the skirt into and lets Gerard look around some more.

They end up standing in front of one of those tall walls that have clothes hanging in rows along them, displaying possible outfits. Most of them are a bit too much for Gerard. He doesn’t really care for those weird tops that have really loose sleeves. At least, not on himself anyway.

But one outfit does catch his eye. The shirt is plain, just a simple blue t-shirt underneath a denim jacket. No, the showstopper is the absolutely _gorgeous_ pastel skirt it’s paired with. It has pinks and blues faded together with gentle ripples in the fabric, which looks to be very soft cotton. The skirt will probably go down to just above his ankles and he can already picture himself wearing his Docs with it.

“That one?” Mikey asks, probably reading the look all over Gerard’s face. “It’s really pretty.”

The sincerity in his brother’s voice is what makes him able to shuffle over to the nearest employee, a younger girl with dark brown hair. 

“Excuse me?” he manages, gaining her attention from the pile of jeans she’d been folding. “Could you uh… help us get an outfit down from one of th’ displays?”

She smiles brightly, in a genuine sort of way rather than the customer service one he was expecting.

“Yeah, sure. Absolutely. Lead the way.”

So Gerard nervously leads her back to Mikey and points to the skirt hanging on the wall a few feet above their heads. 

“Um. Th’ skirt there. Please.”

She grabs a long metal rod-thing from behind one of the racks and uses it to pull one of the clothes hangers with the skirt down. 

“Is this the right size?” she asks, lifting the tag for him to see.

But it’s a small. It probably wouldn’t go past his thighs and Gerard has to purposefully push down that thought as he mumbles out that he needs a medium. The employee doesn’t even bat an eye, she simply reaches with the rod again and grabs the correct size on the second try. 

“There ya go,” she says cheerily, handing the skirt over to Gerard. “That one is super cute, dude. Good choice.”

Gerard feels the blood rush to his head, mainly from the shock that she doesn’t seem to care that he’s the one buying this skirt. Most people at least give him a second glance. Or ask if he wants gift wrapping for his girlfriend.

“Thank you,” he says, surprised by how easy this turned out to be.

The girl nods and sets the rod back where she got it. 

“Not a problem. Can I do anything else for you?”

Well, now that he thinks about it. It’d probably be good to try these on first. He’s not exactly the same size as he was before and he’s rounding up just to be safe. And, plus, he wants to see what the skirts look like with his Misfits shirt he has on. He wears this thing so much it’s practically a part of him now.

Somehow, he stutters his way through asking for a changing room. The girl smiles and actually asks him if he’d like the men’s or the women’s and the fact that she isn’t assuming anything seriously makes Gerard want to hug her. Or like, demand that she get a raise.

After he quietly asks for the men’s changing room, she gladly points them to the one closest and tells them to have a good evening. Gerard’s still sort of reeling from it by the time he and Mikey make their way there.

Mikey hands him the basket and glances at the older woman standing at the desk. But before he can offer to ask for him, Gerard’s already stepping forward and getting the worker’s attention.

“I’d like to try some clothes on, please.”

The old woman nods and grabs a ring of keys from infront of her before leading him over to the first room. She unlocks the wooden door and pushes it open for him.

“No more than three items of clothing inside and don’t take more than 10 minutes.”

Gerard nods but he shoots a glance back at Mikey, finding him standing there aimlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Can- can I come out and show my brother the clothes?”

“Of course. Just make sure you’re fully clothed,” she tells him with a kind smile, the sort of smile that makes him think of his grandmother.

Once the door is closed and Gerard is standing there in the changing room, surrounded by all of the mirrors and the skirts in his hand, there’s a moment where he almost leaves. Where he asks himself if buying these things would ever do him any good. Whenever he wears them, people always say something. Someone always does.

He nearly had a breakdown the day he met Frank because of an asshole simply _commenting _on his eyeliner. This is so, so much more than that.__

____

But he thinks about Frank. About how he told Gerard that he looked nice that day. How him wearing eyeliner wasn’t even a big deal. 

____

It stings, thinking of Frank and not being mad at him, but Gerard can’t bring himself to force the memories away. He needed that. Needed someone assuring him that his head was just mean, that assholes were just bigoted jerks who probably were intimidated by the fact that Gerard wore something that’s traditionally a feminine thing. 

____

It’s that thought that helps Gerard strip out of his jeans and pull up the blue shark skirt. He had been right, it rests less than an inch past his knees and ends in a delicate ruffle that makes him smile to himself. His beat up old sneakers somehow go with it well and he even chances a glance in the mirror.

____

His hair looks soft and ever so slightly wavy since it’s mostly dried by now, and it curls gently at his shoulders. The teal in his roots actually complements the blue of the skirt, going for that clash of punk and soft he was thinking about earlier.

____

Gerard loves it so much that he can’t help but do a little twirl.

____

“Mikey?” He calls out, keeping his voice quiet but hopefully loud enough for his brother to hear. 

____

“How’s it look?” 

____

Mikey sounds like he’s right outside the door so Gerard steels himself and slowly opens it. They step out into a wider area of the changing rooms and Gerard even spins again for Mikey.

____

“Oh! That’s so cute, Gee!” 

____

“Yeah?”

____

He looks down at the skirt, unable to stop the smile that’s pulling on his face. This one is very similar to one he used to have back in school. Except the old one was well worn and nearly falling apart. This one is new but it still feels comforting and safe, just like the old one. He may be a little in love with it.

____

Suddenly a loud whistle rings through the air, causing Gerard to jerk his head in the direction it came from. A group of men a little older than him are standing just a few feet away. The one in the middle, tall and covered in shitty tattoos, whistles again. The other guys laugh and Gerard makes out the words ‘pretty boy’ and some other frankly horrible things being leered under their breaths.

____

But, before he can run back into the dressing room or tell the guys off, Mikey steps forward. There’s a look on his face that Gerard has never seen before, one of pure anger and hate.

____

“Leave him alone.”

____

____

The guy who whistled just laughs, eyeing Gerard up and down like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat. It makes his skin crawl but he can do nothing other than stand there. 

____

“She yours?” the guy asks lowly. “Pretty thing like that needs someone like me to take care of ‘er.”

____

____

Gerard blinks and Mikey has shoved the big guy so hard that one of his friends has to keep him from hitting the floor. 

____

“That’s _enough_!”

____

They all turn to the old lady now standing at her desk. Her face is set hard and she marches over to Mikey and the guys menacingly. They all deflate.

____

“I want you out of this store,” she demands sharply, pointing a finger at the big guy. 

____

“I-”

____

“Do not make me throw you out, young man.”

____

____

That shuts the guy up and one of his friends helps drag him towards the door. It feels like no-one breathes until the doors close behind the assholes. The old lady moves first, turning to look at Gerard. He half expects her to shout for causing trouble or leading those guys on by wearing the skirt, but the fierceness from just a second ago is gone and her eyes hold nothing but kindness as she offers him a smile.

____

“Are you alright, hon?”

____

Gerard blinks back tears and nods anyway. He wraps his arms around his waist and tries very hard to not sprint back to the car. 

____

He hates that the good feeling from earlier has been ruined by those guys. If he wants to wear a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t give assholes like that the motivation to say and do shit like that. Seriously, he’s more pissed off at how horrible those guys were than hurt. But he _is_ hurt. Not enough to make him swear off skirts and pretty things again, but still enough to where he really just wants to go home.

____

“You shouldn’t listen to them,” the older lady continues gently, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm. “You look lovely.”

____

Mikey steps over then, thanking the old lady and wrapping his arms around Gerard’s shoulders. He wants to thank them both, to shrug all of this off and call those guys assholes and move on. But he can’t. 

____

He doesn’t manage to even speak until Mikey has paid for his things and they’re on their way back home.

____

“Thank you,” Gerard whispers around the quiet radio playing through the car.

____

Mikey turns his head a little, probably shocked that Gerard’s not completely freaking out right now. And Gerard is sorta surprised too.

____

That was horrible and he honestly felt so afraid and gross in the moment. But now that it’s passed, all he can think about is which skirt he should wear tomorrow to surprise Lyn-z. How good he felt when he tried the blue one on. 

____

The one he’s still wearing. He hadn’t changed back in their hurry to get home and he’s definitely afraid of what his mom’s going to say. Or, even worse, what his _dad_ would say if he saw. 

____

But, as scary as those things are, Gerard feels surprisingly okay.

____

He did it. He did something he’s been terrified of for ages.

____

He went out, bought feminine things. Tried them _on_ and bought them. It’s freeing in a sense. Knowing that he is able to admit to having this side of himself. 

____

And it got his mind off of Frank for a little while, helped him break through the worst of his funk. He’s probably going to go home and pass out immediately, seeing as his shoulder has decided to make itself known again, but tonight really did the trick. 

____

He feels so much better and he’s honestly starting to think that moving on from Frank won’t be that hard after all.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter we Will get more of Frank's side I promise. Actually, it should be in his pov the whole time. Except the last part but I haven't decided competently yet. Either way. frank's side will be given very soon <3  
> So the skirt scene was something I thought of a few weeks before the posts on tumblr started going around. With the ideas of Gerard in skirts in different eras. I love those ideas So Much. LIke. The art some of the people have posted!!! Ah My heart! but yeah. So I am glad we all agree that Gerard can and Should wear skirts. If I had actual artistic ability i would draw gee in this fic in that cute shark one haha  
> Mikey is, once again, The Best brother. and his support is something that is a huge factor in Gee's recovery. Everyone needs support and people out there who are looking out for them.   
> also, more of Ray's pov soon too. XD   
> Thank you all for reading. I'm sorry for the weirdness of updating times that this one has been, please forgive me haha. If you want, leave a comment and tell me what you thought? Or your theories about Frank and what the hell he's up to. I love watching your guys' thought processes on that haha


	10. Bulletproof Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood/violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening! I hope you guys are all doing well <3  
> Sorry again for this one being late too, I've been super busy with work and moving and just adulting in general. but it's fine. I am going to make Sure that next week's will be on time. I promise.  
> The next chapter is already my favorite, even though i haven't written it yet. I'm just so freaking excited and so I'll probably end up writing it in one sitting haha  
> @i-like-to-wander-around-here is my amazing beta and she is the reason any of these chapters are at all understandable. She's great and I'd be so lost without her. <3  
> I really hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *chapter title is a My Chem song off of Danger Days*

You would think that, since Frank is _hundreds_ of years old, he’d be wise like most of the older demons are. If they don’t turn out to be assholes. But the wise personality trait must’ve skipped Frank the day God was handing it out because he’s seriously not even sure if he can claim to be of _average_ intelligence. 

It took Ray outright _telling_ him that ghouls might start attacking humans for the pieces to finally click. And even then, it wasn’t until halfway through his last assignment before it really began to set in. For him to understand what that might mean.

He _knows_ that he got there as quickly as he could. The only way he could have gotten to Gerard faster was if he flew and it’s not like that’s an option for him. 

So he tells himself that he did everything he could. He prayed the whole way there, begging whoever was listening that he wouldn’t be too late. That Gerard would be fine. That if there was a ghoul there, Frank could impress him by slaying it. He had hoped so desperately that everything would be okay, that he wouldn’t have to watch the ghoul tear Gerard apart.

But no. Frank is an idiot for ever even thinking his luck could be that good.

While he didn’t actually see the ghoul tearing into Gerard, the image of him laying there on the coffee shop floor is something Frank can’t seem to get out of his head. There had been blood everywhere and by all means, Gerard _shouldn’t_ have survived. That realization, of how close Frank got to losing him, sends an almost tangible ache through his chest every time he closes his eyes. Because all he can see is Gerard laying there bleeding out. Over and over. 

On the off chance he’s slept over the past few days, that’s all he’s seen in his dreams as well. Sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes Gerard is torn into literal pieces. He screams Frank’s name and begs him to help.

Frank always wakes up feeling worse than before, shuddering and gasping as he tries to convince himself that his dreams aren’t real. That Gerard _is_ okay because he healed him himself. He felt the wounds mend under his fingertips, quite literally breathed the life back into him. And yet, somehow it doesn’t feel like enough proof. It feels like he’s moments away from finding a crack in the mirror and this world, this universe where a human managed to survive something like that, will begin to fall apart. Leaving behind reality, where the ghoul did what it does best and killed Frank, or Gerard in its confusion.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

That Gerard wouldn’t have been in any danger at all if it weren’t for Frank. If he were able to stay out of trouble for _once_ in his fucking life. It's worse this time because he didn’t only drag himself down. This isn’t him having to hide away in his home for decades, long after the open wounds where his horns were began to heal. Even after the tiny nubs appeared, the new bone slowly making its way closer to the way they were before, Frank had continued to hide inside. He let everything else get dusted under the rug and waited until he knew it was safe before he ever set foot back in the halls of the courts. 

But he can’t do that now. Well, technically he can and he is. Hiding, that is. Waiting for everything to blow over. But Gerard can’t. He didn’t ask for this, to be attacked and nearly killed. 

It’s all Frank’s fault this time. There’s no easy lie or smudged truth that’ll shift this onto someone else. Bob had started it but the only reason Gerard was attacked is because of _Frank_.

Gerard was the single good thing Frank has ever had, besides Ray. And he loves Ray to literal death, but Gerard is _different_.

He’s _human_ , and that’s the biggest thing. He is so human that it should make Frank sick, all of the flaws and vulnerabilities that he already knew would be there going into this. But somehow it’s so easy to look past all of that, to not see Gerard as this small, easily corrupted human. And that’s because that’s not what he is. Gerard is _nothing_ like anything he had ever expected.

Frank has lived his entire life with people recounting terrible stories of humans hurting each other, hurting innocents over nothing. He thought that demons were better than that because that’s what he’s always been told. While no one can be perfect, demons were so obviously better than the humans. 

But right now, with the image of Gerard, _an innocent_ , nearly dying because of _Frank’s_ stupidity, is strong enough to poke massive holes in damn near everything he knows.

Gerard is making him question everything and he probably should be pissed at him for it, for making him doubt, but he’s not. Because there’s this odd feeling in his gut, a deep ache that keeps growing every time something else doesn't add up. 

Frank doesn’t have any clue what to do about it though. It’s not like he can _go back_ to Gerard. He wouldn’t blame him if he hated him now. He deserves it.

He’s not quite sure how long it’s been either, days or maybe weeks blending together into a mess of assignments and curling himself into whatever free space he can find around town. That’s where he is now, balled up beside a disgusting dumpster and attempting desperately to get some rest. The rough concrete ground digs into his skin and his whole body aches from the cold. He’s beginning to go numb too, a strange feeling that is gradually creeping up his limbs. 

The corner he’s in is as dark as it is smelly, but if he turns his head he can see part of the sidewalk and the main road. His head is turned that way right now, lazily resting against the brick wall behind him. Occasionally, a person or two will walk by and he debates jumping them, stealing a thicker jacket or maybe some gloves because it feels like his hands are about to fall off. But he never acts on it.

He’s already fucked up one human’s life, he doesn’t have any right to make another human freeze from the cold. It’s selfish and he knows it. But any other demon wouldn’t talk themself out of it. Even Ray would probably steal a fucking jacket and be on his way.

But Frank can’t. He’s not really sure why. Why he cares so much that if he were to take that jacket, the human would then be as cold as he is right now. All that’s for sure is that he wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Other than Bob.

Frank shutters through a cough and closes his eyes again. He needs to sleep. He’ll feel better afterwards. 

But will he really?

Aside from the nightmares, each assignment has been more difficult than the last. From people outright shouting at him to leave them alone- the lady thought he was a ghost but the message was pretty clear-, to having to spend nearly three days in his shadow form so that he could get the information he needed, it seems like nothing can go his way. To make matters worse, there’s been ghouls showing up now too. None have attacked him, not yet anyway, but they roam on the outskirts of comfortably far enough away. He’s not sure what they’re doing but if he had to guess, they’re trying to wear him down. They’re waiting for him to stumble and then they’ll strike. 

He doesn’t like his chances of beating another one, let alone the few dozen he’s seen since the night Gerard was attacked. 

The wind blows again, strong enough for him to feel it despite the dumpster he’s huddled against. It makes his eyes droop, ironically enough. He recalls that demons aren’t supposed to be cold, they’re not equipped for it. He wonders distantly if he falls asleep here if he’ll even wake up. 

It’s a morbid thought but one that he doesn’t have the energy to counter. Frank is in deep shit, there’s no denying that. But maybe he’ll get lucky and Ray will find some definite proof of his innocence and he’ll be back in Hell in no time.

He isn’t counting on it. 

A pressure pushes against his mind, like someone pushing their finger against the inside of his head. Ray’s trying to call him. Again. 

Frank’s been ignoring him for a while now. He _wants_ to go back home, to be free of this stupid fucking assignment and get on with his life. But he’s not ready for the questions Ray is sure to have. The questions that he doesn’t have answers to.

Frank hates himself for running, for leaving before Gerard even woke up. And yet, he can’t bring himself to go back. Not after this long.

He hopes that Gerard is okay now, that he’s been taking it easy and letting his body finish healing. He probably did a shit job but he’d poured _all_ of his energy into healing him. After he ran away, he crawled to the softest patch of grass he could find and slept for a solid two days. And so, by the time he woke up, it was already too late for him to go back. No matter how badly he wants to.

The pressure gets stronger, insistent and nearly desperate. A sure sign that Ray’s emotions are apparently strong enough to get through the barriers Frank’s put up. It’s a waste of energy, trying to deflect Ray.

He’s already exhausted and he shouldn’t be using up the last of his strength to keep the one person who still cares about him away, but he’s a stubborn bastard so he builds the walls in his mind higher and tries to ignore how badly he misses his best friend.

He’s not ready to hear Ray’s sympathy. Fuck, he doesn’t _deserve_ it, because the second he tells Ray what’s happened that concern will go away. 

He will tell Frank that he shouldn’t be this hung up over a single human. That Gerard doesn’t even _matter_. In the grand scheme of things Gerard is a tiny little blip in forever that no one will remember within a century. He doesn’t matter.

Except he _does_. To Frank he means the world and it’s seriously terrifying for him to think that and admit deep inside him that it’s the truth. Gerard is something special. He may be nothing but a millisecond in forever, but to Frank he’s eternity. And that's terrifying, in the best and worst ways possible. 

It’s why Ray _can’t_ find out. He wouldn’t understand.

A loud whistle cuts through the dark alley, making Frank’s ears ring painfully. Dark red light begins to wash over the dumpster he’s laying against and the trash surrounding him. He should run but he doesn’t. For as badly as he doesn’t want to tell Ray what’s going on, he’s simply too drained to put up a fight right now. He wouldn’t get far, even if he tried.

A moment later Ray steps out of the swirling red portal. His hair’s a mess, tangled more so than Frank’s ever seen it, and he shrinks down on himself once he feels the cold bite to the air. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Oh, right. Because he gave _Frank_ his jacket the last time they saw each other.

It only takes Ray a second to glance down and find him. His eyes widen almost comically before they quickly narrow into an intense scowl. 

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Frank,” he fumes, stepping over to Frank and crossing his arms like a scolding parent. “It has been two goddamn weeks of you ignoring my calls and letting me think you were fucking _dead_.”

Frank turns his gaze away from Ray’s glare and simply lays his head on his knees. Ray has every right to be pissed, and he will be more so when he figures out why Frank’s been ignoring him. He sees no point in arguing or trying to tell Ray it wasn’t what it looks like.

He _has_ been ignoring his best friend for, apparently, two weeks. He’s been hiding and moping and working his ass off, just so he won’t have to confront this. But that’s all for nothing. He’s screwed now and he can’t run away from it anymore. Ray’s probably gonna chew him a new one but he deserves it.

“Of _all_ the times to not have anything to say, you have to choose right now, don’t you? I ended up having to break into the records room to try and figure out if you were doing your assignments so that I would know if you were even _alive_!”

“I am,” Frank defends weakly, without lifting his head.

Funny, _now_ his eyes stay closed. Maybe he can fall asleep like this. If he passes out, maybe Ray will yell later.

“I know,” Ray bites, mistaking his tone for stubbornness. “And yet you can’t bother to even answer? Did you wall me out? Because that’s a dick move, even for you.”

The words sting, like physical punches to his body, but Frank doesn’t answer. He’s too cold and too heartbroken.

Maybe Ray should leave. He’ll be better off, anyway. Without having to stress over Frank all the time or risk his neck over this stupid traitor claim. 

“Can you at least fuckin’ _answer_ me, Frank?”

He opens his mouth to tell Ray he’s sorry again but all that comes out is a deep, burning cough. It tears through him like literal fire burning in his lungs and throat. It leaves him shivering almost violently and leaning his head against Ray’s side as he blinks the white spots out of his vision. 

When did Ray come over? When did he stop yelling at Frank?

“Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing soothing circles against Frank’s back as he calms down. “What the fuck is going on, Frank?”

His tone is more gentle now, nearly normal. Frank can’t bring himself to deny how much weight feels lifted from realizing that, even in an argument, Ray still cares. He doesn’t deserve it but it’s deeply appreciated.

“ ‘m sick, I think?” he croaks, making an effort to restrain himself from burying his face in Ray’s shoulder and passing out right here.

Ray snorts and it shakes Frank enough that he feels able to open his eyes again. “Yeah, no shit. I meant _why_. We don’t exactly get sick at the drop of a hat.”

Despite himself, Frank leans almost all of his weight onto Ray. He smells better than the dumpster, the familiar scent of home clinging to him. Ray’s way more comfortable than the brick wall too and, to his surprise, Ray wraps his other arm around him and waits patiently for him to answer.

This kindness can’t last. The second he tells Ray this will be gone and replaced with the yelling again. So he revels in it, tries to soak in the feeling of being comforted by someone so familiar. So safe. 

When he finally speaks it’s a miracle that his voice doesn’t waver. 

“I fucked up.”

Ray waits for a beat. “How so?”

“I talked to a human who I wasn’t assigned to… and I- and he’s my friend now.” 

Frank feels Ray stiffen and lean away. He waits for the inevitable shove, for him to start yelling about how stupid of a move that is. Or for him to just _leave_ , walk right back through that portal and leave Frank here in this stupid alley. 

“Why?” 

Frank remains silent out of surprise more than anything, but Ray sighs and steels his voice. “ _Why_ is he your friend?”

It doesn’t sound angry, exactly, more like he’s trying very hard to understand Frank’s thought process. It’s farther than he thought he’d get so he quickly tries to figure out how to word this, what would be the best way for him to come clean without completely pushing Ray away.

“Honest answer?” Frank mumbles, missing the warmth of how close Ray was less than a second ago.

He’s still in Ray’s arms but it’s not as comforting as it is him holding Frank up. Somehow him pulling away slightly stings worse than the shouting would have.

God, Frank’s a fucking mess isn’t he?

“That’s all I want,” Ray assures him, some of that familiar compassion leaking into his words.

Frank takes a breath, partly to stall but also to make sure that he says this right. It’s a big deal, for more reasons than one. 

“I think I like him,” he whispers, keeping his stare firmly fixed on a crack in the concrete at his feet. “Like, _like_ like him.”

To his surprise, Ray doesn’t move away this time. Actually, he leans in again and wraps Frank in his arms, chasing away some of the cold that’s been clinging to him. Frank could nearly cry in relief. Fuck, he’s so tired.

“What’s his name?” 

Frank cranes his neck back to gaze up at Ray. He has his head against the same rough brick wall that Frank does, is braving the cold in even fewer layers. Ray has every _right_ to be extremely pissed at him. To report him to Him for even _talking_ to Gerard.

Frank almost expected him to. But at least in the dungeons he’d be out of the cold and not able to hurt Gerard anymore, right?

This understanding though, the way he’s listening and not abandoning Frank on the spot, _that’s_ what he can’t seem to process.

“Gerard,” Frank whispers, an image of Gerard’s smiling face flickering in his mind.

While the guilt from what he’s done hasn’t lessened any, he can feel himself smile because simply Gerard’s name makes that weird fluttery feeling erupt in Frank’s stomach. 

“He the reason you’re sleeping next to a dumpster?” Ray points out.

“Sorta?”

Ray sighs but seems to make his mind up about something. He tugs on Frank until they manage to stand together. Frank’s legs shake and he clings to Ray’s arms because they’re the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground.

“Fucking _Hell_ ,” Ray swears under his breath as he graciously keeps Frank steady. “What did you _do_?”

Frank makes a noise that’s supposed to be a snort but ends up dragging more hacking coughs out of him. He stumbles again, head spinning, and Ray catches him just in time. 

“Alright,” Ray tells him, exasperatedly. “That’s it. Where’s th’ nearest hotel?”

Frank shrugs. He’s not sure. 

“Okay… super helpful,” Ray rolls his eyes. 

“That way.”

Frank points to their left. He’s pretty sure he saw one in that direction the other day. Ray thanks him and starts all but dragging him forward.

Frank doesn’t fight him, even though he wants to argue that one night out of the cold isn’t really going to do much. He’ll be sleeping next to that dumpster again tomorrow night. 

But Ray’s grip on him is tight and he’s tugging him along earnestly, only stopping when Frank feels like he’s completely about to pass out. 

Somehow, they make it to the front doors in one piece. Ray doesn’t let go of him though, instead he waltzes into the lobby with a barely conscious Frank clinging to his side. The lady at the desk does a double take and Frank watches her stiffen.

“Can I help you?”

“We lost our room key. Do you think you could get us a spare?”

She blinks and Frank can see her confusion, but then it passes and she’s reaching under the desk for the spare keys.

“Room number?”

Ray smiles innocently. “I don’t remember the number. But it had two large beds and a full sized bathroom.”

Again, the lady is confused for all of five seconds before it fades and she’s happily handing them a shiny, thin key.

“Anything else I can do for you?” she asks brightly, no trace of the confusion on her features.

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

And with that, Ray leads a stumbling Frank towards the elevators.

Everything passes in a blur after that. He barely registers the ding of the elevator, the sound of the door to their room closing. Frank only begins to take note of where he is after he’s been laid out onto one of the beds.

When he looks down, his feet are a good three feet from the edge and there’s enough room on either side of him for a whole other person. Ray’s in the process of protecting the room, walking in circles and muttering wards under his breath. 

He comes back over to Frank once he’s done and sits down beside him. After Frank makes it through yet another coughing fit- his chest is beginning to ache with them- Ray finally speaks.

“It’s probably way less fancier than yours but I wanted th’ closest place for you to tell my why the fuck you were freezing to death in an alley.”

Frank can only shrug. 

He can feel the heat flowing from the vents, slowly warming him and fighting off the insistent shakes that’ve been bothering him for what feels like weeks. He lets his eyes slip shut and takes a breath.

The bed underneath him is impossibly soft and he feels like he’s sinking down into it. Even the sheets are soft and warm and he wants nothing more than to burrow down into them forever. 

He can feel himself drifting off again. Sleep is calling him, begging him to listen and just relax. To let go. He’s been awake for so long, maybe here he could get a few hours without risking freezing.

“Frank.” 

Ray shakes him hard, startling him out of the very beginnings of unconsciousness. He scowls but pulls himself up until he’s sitting against the pillows, waiting impatiently for Ray to explain why he won’t let him sleep.

He watches Ray fidget with something in his pocket, purposefully stalling for time, before he glances back up at Frank with concern again. God Frank is getting sick of that look.

“You _do_ have a hotel room right?”

Confused, Frank’s frustration from being woken fades a little and he shakes his head. 

“Don’t you dare tell me you’ve been fucking sleeping outside this whole time!” 

The anger in his words causes Frank to flinch. Nervously, he gathers some of the blankets in his hand and pulls it up to his chest to try and warm up a little more.

“God _damn it_ ,” Ray swears, bringing a hand up to his forehead like he has a headache.

He sounds as angry as Frank has ever heard him and it’s seriously beginning to scare him. Ray is never this upset, especially at Frank. He’s not even really sure what Ray’s mad about but he’s too afraid to ask. He keeps his eyes on the plain white blanket in his hands and tries to not make this worse.

The bed dips and Ray sits down beside him, pulling up a loose blanket and wrapping it around him on top of the others. Warmth slowly starts to encompass Frank after what feels like forever, and he can feel the sensation finally returning to his hands and feet again.

When Ray speaks again, all of the anger is gone. He only sounds sad. And tired. 

“Why didn’t you find a hotel or something to stay in?”

Oh. He thought Ray knew, or had at least figured it out, but he guesses not. Frank doesn’t want to say it, or really think about how shit his powers really are. How they’re never going to be as strong as Ray’s or the other demons’. 

“I can’t,” Frank mumbles quietly.

“Can’t what?”

As he waits on his reply, Ray gets up and grabs another blanket, draping it too around Frank’s shoulders. It chases away the last of his shivering and he relaxes fully against the pillows, finally comfortable.

“Influence humans,” he explains. “It’s worse than trying to- to do portals or whatever. I just… _can’t_.”

The smile Ray gives him shows nothing but sympathy and understanding. He doesn’t press for details either, something that Frank is extremely grateful for. He doesn’t need anything else to worry over tonight, his past especially. 

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ve been sleeping outside this entire time?” 

Frank flinches again at the bluntness to Ray’s statement. Because even though it hangs in the air like a question, it’s clear that Ray already has the answer. Frank doesn't have to say a word for Ray to make a short, exasperated noise and continue by asking, 

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“I didn’t-”

“And don’t you _dare_ say you didn’t wanna bother me,” Ray interrupts sternly but kindly. “You should know that I would do anything for you, dude.”

Frank lowers his eyes again and fights off the wave of guilt that comes with hearing Ray say that.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers.

Ray always does so much for him. He is always there, fixing Frank’s messes. Making sure he doesn’t do something stupid and gets himself killed. 

It’s not fair to Ray but Frank simply doesn’t have the heart to ask him to stop. As much as he dislikes relying on someone so much, he also depends on it. Ray keeps him sane, gives him a reason to get up every morning. 

He’s not lying when he says that he didn’t even think about asking Ray for help with the whole, finding a place to stay- thing. He figured that all demons were supposed to sorta drift around when they went on assignments down here and that this was normal.

Clearly he was wrong. So does this mean that Ray’s stayed at hotels like this one, where the beds feel like they’re swallowing you whole and the heating almost rivals Hell? 

He had… assumed that Ray had toughed out the same conditions. That _that_ was why he knew to give Frank his jacket. If he hadn’t, Frank probably would be way worse off right now. 

But if he’s seriously the only one who _didn’t_ know that it was basically a given to influence a human in order to get a room while on assignments, well isn’t that fucking _convenient_?

Did Hell do this shit on purpose? Leaving him out of the loop, letting him struggle because they are aware that he can’t do shit about it because-

Ray’s hand comes to rest on Frank’s leg, a heavy, soothing weight that is so familiar it nearly aches. But in a good way.

Frank glances up at him, afraid for a moment that he’s been able to hear his thoughts. Hear how stupid he feels now that he’s starting to realize he was purposefully set back. 

“You’re my best friend, Frank,” Ray begins softly, his words gentle but full of sincerity. “I want to help you. And I- I owe you everything, the least I can do is help you.”

“Once. I helped you _once_. All you’ve done since is save me from dumb shit. It’s not the same.”

Ray’s smile grows sad and he scoots a little closer to Frank. It’s nearly a full minute before he speaks again, voice still so quiet. 

“You’ve helped me way more than you think, Frank.”

“Just because I did something nice for you like, _400_ years ago, _doesn’t_ mean you should have to save my fucking ass every two seconds,” Frank defends desperately. “That’s _not_ fair to you and-”

“You didn’t just, ‘do something nice’ Frank. You-”

“I _know_ ,” Frank interrupts back, waving his hands restlessly. He doesn’t want to think about this right now. Not on top of everything else. “But I haven't done _shit_ since but get you into trouble and give you stress and- and I don’t understand why you feel like you need to stick around.”

A weighted silence falls over the two of them as Frank’s words sink in. He hasn’t said that out loud before, least of all to Ray, but he’s felt this way for a long time. 

Ray’s given up so much for him, solely because of something that Frank did literal ages ago. It’s not fair to Ray. He’s too stubborn to admit that Frank is only pulling him down. 

“It wasn’t nothing,” he repeats, so much softer this time. “Frank, what you did saved my life. Not everyone would have done something, or even _looked_ at me. But you did. And you’re still that same person. You _always_ put everyone else above yourself, no matter what.”

Frank doesn’t have anything to say to that. He wants to argue, to tell Ray that he’s a selfish bastard who was nice _one_ time in his entire life. And see where _that_ got him?

But he doesn’t. He nods silently and tries to get his words to work. 

“Anyone would’a done it,” he says under his breath. “It’d take a monster to stand there and do nothing.”

The smile Ray gives him is tight but also so affectionate too. It’s a strange mix but it makes Frank’s guilt lessen considerably. 

“You were the only one who even looked, Frank.”

The conversation ends there. Ray may be right but Frank doesn’t have the emotional energy for this right now. This is the most they've talked about it since it happened. He thought that it would be harder than it was and while he has to force down the memories threatening to resurface, it also feels like a load has been taken off of his shoulders.

He feels raw and open, stripped down to his bare bones. But lighter, at the same time.

“So,” Ray says, nudging him over with his shoulder and leaning back against the pillows beside him. “Wanna tell me about that human?”

This is Ray giving him an out, letting him say no and forget the whole- falling for Gerard thing. Frank _should_ change the subject. He could tell Ray that he’s too tired- which he is- and roll over and get some sleep. 

His arm burns with the name of the next human. He’s been ignoring it for almost an hour now, since right before Ray showed up. This is the longest he’s gone without working since Gerard was attacked. 

And, for some reason, that’s what makes him start talking. He dives headfirst, like he does in everything, and starts describing Gerard to Ray. 

How his eyes are this soft, bright shade of hazel that light up whenever he’s happy. The way his hair seems to have never been washed in his life but somehow falls in a perfect sort of messy that is without effort. Or how sometimes there’s little smudges of paint or pencil lead on his hands and underneath his nails. 

And then Frank gets caught on the way Gerard rambles. How he can get so caught up in talking about something he cares about. He pulls Frank in, the way he can go on for hours when he’s really passionate about the topic. It’s such a pure genuine thing, watching Gerard light up as he gets deep into a subject. Frank can’t get enough of it.

Then there’s that soft little uneasy smile that he does whenever Frank compliments him. And Gerard doesn’t believe him, Frank can tell by the way he always tries to take the attention off of himself and twist it onto another topic or onto Frank. And he’s okay with that; he loves listening to Gerard talk and be happy. But he wishes that he saw it too. Saw the beauty that Frank sees so clearly in everything he does.

Ray listens the whole time as Frank goes on to tell him about how nice Gerard is too. It’s not merely an attraction based on appearances. Even though Gerard is one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen. No. Gerard’s a _good_ person. Simply because that’s who he is. There’s no personal gain in his kindness, no expectations for anything in return.

He gives Frank food because he cares and because he probably has some sense that he hasn’t been eating all that much here on Earth. Gerard asks him about his day because he genuinely cares and wants to hear about it. He listens because he wants to hear what Frank has to say. It’s as simple as that.

And _that’s_ what’s pulled Frank in so tightly. The way Gerard seems to care for him when he has no reason to. 

Frank is a stranger. He _lied_ to Gerard. 

In fact, he was a threat to Gerard the entire time and a part of him already knew this. Humans are supposed to be the ones who cause destruction everywhere they go and yet, Gerard would have continued to be himself if Frank hadn’t shown up. He would have lived his life smiling at people who appeared upset when they came into the shop. Giving extra coffees to people who seemed like they needed it. How he’s always there for his brother, Mikey. He would have continued to be exactly who he is and _Frank_ is the one who brought evil into the equation. _He_ lied and he kept doing these stupid fucking assignments, even though Gerard seemed so uncomfortable with the idea. The worst part is that Frank _knows_ what he’s doing is wrong, that these people were influenced against their will, that they’re going to go to Hell simply to count as another number. 

It’s _wrong_ and it’s so fucking messed up but that doesn’t give him the right to corrupt someone like Gerard. And that’s why he _can’t_ go back.

He’s shaking as he repeats that over and over to Ray, barely even aware of what’s in his head and what he’s saying aloud. Ray holds him but it’s stiff and Frank can’t tell if it’s shock or anger making him that way.

What’s certain however, is that Frank can’t face Gerard again. He can’t look him in the eye and apologize when he has no right to. He’s a demon. All he’s good for is corrupting people and bringing them down to Hell. 

It takes him a while, a long while, but eventually he cries himself out. He doesn’t remember ever crying this much, or feeling this hopeless, but Ray acts like an anchor for him. Something steady for Frank to cling to so he doesn’t get washed away in this mess.

When he’s able, Frank drags himself out of Ray’s arms. He half expects Ray to kick him out now, to tell him off for being so stupid as to fall like this for a human. But, to his surprise, Ray looks… stricken. Like he’s had his whole world rocked. 

His eyes are red like he’s been crying too but Frank’s smart enough to not bring that up.

Frank stands unsteadily and Ray at last breaks his vacant staring and glances over to him in a silent question. He doesn’t speak the words into Frank’s head but Frank can hear them anyway.

“ ‘m gonna shower,” he rasps, voice weak from everything today. 

Ray nods and Frank takes a step towards the bathroom. But then he pauses and turns back around. 

“Don’t leave,” he asks softly. “Please. Stay the night?”

Ray’s eyes fall and Frank watches something he can barely read pass over his face. It almost could be sadness, or concern, but then Ray relaxes and smiles. It’s a real smile, bright and normal.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving you. Get cleaned up. You should sleep soon.”

_____________________________________________

Sunlight streams through the open curtains, soft with the early morning. The quiet sound of traffic seeps through the walls, the sound of the town waking up and heading to work around them.

Frank isn’t sure how long he’s been awake. He woke up a few minutes ago, eyes already open and his body fully awake.

But he hasn’t moved yet. Ray has his right arm pinned since, somehow in the night, they ended up cuddling in their sleep. It’s not the first time and it surely won’t be the last, and Frank doesn’t mind all that much.

He’s well rested and feels good for the first time in quite a while. A part of him is shocked that Ray didn’t sneak out in the night after he told him all about Gerard. Any sane demon would have bolted. But that’s Ray for you. He’s a good person and an even better friend. Frank is extremely lucky to have him.

He would still be sleeping next to that dumpster if it weren’t for Ray. He could have frozen to death out there, and probably would have too. 

But, yet again, Ray must have healed him. He must have at least done some sort of healing, since even though he can feel the same wheeze in his exhales and the tiredness draped over him like a heavy blanket, it’s better now. He’s a _lot_ better than he should be. He should probably be upset that he needed saving _again_ , but Ray’s words from last night echo in his head.

How he’s so grateful for what Frank did. That he thinks Frank is a good friend and how he doesn’t mind helping him when he inevitably fucks up again. 

So Frank pushes down the guilt rising up and chooses instead to crawl out of bed. He manages, with some mild cursing, to get untangled from Ray’s death grip and wanders over to the small coffee pot on the counter. 

It seems close enough to the one at his home back in Hell, so Frank figures it can’t be _that_ hard to work. And waking Ray up with coffee sounds like a pretty good thank you, too. 

After an hour and a little magic, Frank walks back over to the bed Ray’s sleeping in and sets the coffee on the end table. He shakes Ray’s shoulder until he groans and bats his hand away.

“Ray,” he whispers loudly, giving him another shake.

“Wha-”

“Wake _up_ ,” Frank presses, unable to hide his grin. “I have coffee.”

That gets Ray’s attention and he opens one eye suspiciously. Frank grabs the cup from the nightstand and shows it to him to prove he’s not fucking with him. Seemingly pleased, Ray snags the cup and sits up. 

Once he’s done and Ray is decidedly much more awake, Frank goes to make a cup for himself. Gerard’s coffee has gotten him seriously addicted and he’s starting to miss the bitter espresso drinks he would make for him.

As he’s pressing the button to start the cup, Ray comes over. 

“What’s the coffee for?” he asks, an edge of suspicion in his tone.

Frank shrugs and watches dark coffee begin to drip down into his cup.

“You probably gotta get going soon, before someone notices you’ve snuck off to find me.” Frank laughs humorously. “You were tired so I thought you could use some, ‘s all.”

Ray makes an unimpressed sound that’s almost a snort, causing Frank to turn around. 

“ _What_? I’m serious.”

“Frank, you’re an idiot.”

“Why?” he asks, trying to sound hurt even though Ray is very correct.

“You’re worried about me sleeping when you’ve been outside this whole time. I should be kicking your ass right back into that bed.”

“I have an assignment,” Frank defends halfheartedly.

He’s not looking forward to it exactly, but he has to keep up with his work. Even when he’s seriously starting to question why they’re making this so difficult on him. Or why he’s even on this assignment at all.

“What about Gerard?” Ray asks strategically, one eyebrow raised nonchalantly as if he didn’t send Frank’s thoughts spinning.

Frank stands there frozen, coffee halfway to his mouth, and stutters. Because that’s the thing. Isn’t it?

What _about_ Gerard. Can Frank really forget about him and- and move on? 

Should he?

His gut is telling him that would be for the best. Without Frank there, Gerard wouldn’t get hurt again. He’d be safe. 

On the other hand, his heart is practically screaming at him to get a grip. To push all this bullshit aside and go find Gerard right now. He misses him like- like he missed his horns when they were gone. Like he misses…

Frank shakes his head. It’s an ongoing battle, between what his heart is telling him and what his gut is warning him against. And Frank is torn. He isn’t sure what he should do, or what he _wants_ to do.

“I can’t hurt him again,” is what Frank decides on, hating how his voice wavers.

That’s the underlying thing. That Gerard was hurt, not by the ghoul or the injuries it gave him- which were Frank’s fault as well but that's not the _point_. The point is that Frank left. He fucked up so fucking bad by doing so. By not staying and trying to get Mikey to understand that it was an accident.

It feels like it’s too late. How could he go back now, weeks later, and try and explain himself? 

“Frank,” Ray says softly. “You need to talk to him.”

Frank frowns. “Wait. Why are you helping me with this? Gerard’s a _human_. I shouldn’t have even _talked_ to him, let alone got close enough to- to start to like him and-”

“Hey,” Ray’s hand goes to his shoulder but his expression is uncertain, hesitant. “I _don’t_ understand it. You’re right about that much. How you could see all of that in a human it- it doesn’t add up for me. But the human isn’t my best friend. You are. And if you say those things about him are true and you believe them, which I can tell that you do, then I guess… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I trust your judgement, Frank. And it sounds like you really like this guy. I’ve never seen you like this. So… even if you two can’t be uh… together, you should at least try and talk to him. Don’t let it end like this.”

Frank can hardly believe what Ray’s saying. He stutters again and has to clear his throat to try and actually say something.

“You’re… not mad at me?” he asks shyly.

Ray gives him an understanding tilt of his head, like he too has his heart and his gut battling it out inside of his head.

“I’m not mad,” he assures Frank. “You can’t control who you fall for. Now, I won’t say that I understand it- like at all. But I don’t really see how it’s my choice. If he makes you happy-”

“He does,” Frank says under his breath, causing Ray to break a small smile before continuing.

“And you make _him_ happy, then that’s all that matters. I mean, from what you’ve told me, he sounds like a nice guy. So yeah… I say you should talk to him. Give it a second chance.”

Frank nods, his eyes fixed on the counter as his head spins. 

Ray doesn’t mind! He _doesn't_ hate him for liking Gerard.

In fact, he thinks Frank should try and fix their relationship. _God_ this isn’t what he at all thought would happen when he told Ray and it’s nauseating but in like- a good sorta way?

He hears Ray start to gather his things and his heart sinks at the realization that he’s about to leave. 

“I gotta be back in time for court,” Ray is saying behind him. “But I’ll call you when I get out. You better answer this time, asshole.”

“Always,” he replies, half-heartedly.

Ray laughs at him and comes back over to the spot Frank hasn’t moved from.

“You should take it easy today.”

Frank nods, despite the fact that he can’t afford to sit around all day. If he starts slacking, Hell will catch onto the fact that something’s up. 

Ray gives him a glare, one that means he can tell Frank’s lying, but doesn’t press. 

“The lady at the desk thinks you’re staying here for a week,” he adds. “So you should probably sleep here tonight after you’re done with work. They have room service.”

“What’s that?” Frank can’t help but ask curiously. 

“They bring food to you. There’s a menu on the table. Use it.”

Frank’s eyes widen and his stomach growls at the possible prospect of food, he hasn’t eaten in a while. Ray tells him again to listen to what he said and _actually _get some food, before making the portal and stepping through.__

______________________________________________

______________________________________________

“Seriously Mikey,” Gerard defends frustratedly, waving his hands as he does so. “It’s _one_ shift! Lyn-z killed the evil dog thing and she’ll be there with me the whole time!”

____

Mikey doesn’t even glance away from his phone and Gerard feels the impulse to chuck a pillow at him to get his attention.

____

“No. Your shoulder’s still messed up and it’s too soon,” Mikey tells him, sounding more deadpan than normal. The asshole.

____

“Too soon? Mikes, it’s been _weeks_.”

____

That makes Mikey tear his eyes from his phone but the quick, glancing concern as he gives Gerard a once over tells him he’s made no leeway in getting his argument across.

____

“Lynds had to use magic to get your fucking blood out of the couch because Frank can’t heal a wound _before_ moving the injured person and making it worse. You nearly _bled out_ because he decided carrying you home was the best choice. So no. You’re not going to work.”

____

“But this isn’t _about_ Frank,” Gerard insists, plopping down next to Mikey. “Yeah, he fucked up. I know. I was _there_. But that was almost a month ago, Mikey. I’m fine now. My shoulder barely hurts and I hardly even notice it anymore!”

____

There’s a pause as Mikey stares at him, seemingly considering what Gerard’s saying and maybe even giving up his argument. But then that almost haunted glaze comes over his features and he shakes his head again.

____

“No. You’ll have to be on your feet all day and what if the dizzy spells come back? You’re around hot coffee and ovens and- and if you fall you could hit your head on the counters.”

____

“Mikey,” Gerard grabs Mikey’s hands, stilling them from the constant fidgeting he’s been doing all evening. “I’m fine now. I haven't had a spell in over a week and my shoulder seriously doesn’t hurt at all. I _need_ to go back to work.”

____

“But what if another ghoul finds you?” __Mikey’s voice is small, almost reminiscent of when they were kids. It brings Gerard back to days where he would assure Mikey that his batman t-shirt _was_ insanely cool and the kids in his grade who were making fun of him for it were jerks. Or like the day Mikey started high school. How afraid he was because he’d already heard Gerard bitch and moan about it for the past two years. __

______ _ _

It’s moments like this where Gerard remembers that he’s the older brother. That it’s his job to make sure his little brother is okay. He doesn’t get to do this all that much anymore. Mikey’s grown up now and he’s stronger. He does and wears whatever he wants and doesn’t need Gerard’s reassurance all that often. 

______ _ _

So that’s why he’s going to make sure he does this right. To make sure he doesn’t leave Mikey here alone to anxiously worry over him for no reason.

______ _ _

“Lyn-z shot actual fucking lightning out of her hands, dude. She’s gonna be with me all night. Nothing is going to hurt me, okay?”

______ _ _

Gerard’s not lying when he says that he feels safer with the knowledge that Lyn-z will be there with him. She’s incredible and he has no doubts that she’ll protect him if something were to go wrong.

______ _ _

“Promise?” Mikey asks, voice slightly stronger now.

______ _ _

Gerard nods. “I swear.”

______ _ _

Finally appeased, Mikey lets Gerard pull his hand away. He lifts his phone and starts typing again, but there’s the slightest unsteadiness to his movements that tells Gerard he’s not as alright as he’s acting. But he’s better and Gerard’s done as much as he can. 

______ _ _

“I’ll be back by 11, okay?”

______ _ _

“Text me?” he asks without looking up, that same near hidden hitch to his words.

______ _ _

“Always.”

______ _ _

____________________________________________________

Gerard smiles as he passes a wrapped muffin over to the lady on the other side of the counter. She thanks him, drops a couple of dollars in the tip jar, and goes over to sit down by the windows. 

______ _ _

Today has been fairly slow, especially with two people working in the evening instead of one. But Gerard is thankful for Lyn-z’s presence. Despite how quick he was to reassure Mikey, he is very much afraid of being here alone.

______ _ _

It’s all been cleaned up, the mess of his own blood and everything, but only a few feet from where he’s standing is where the ghoul tore into him. He can still feel the pain of its fangs, how it was the worst pain that he has ever felt. It was like fire was being shot through his veins and was so intense that he even blacked out for a moment. 

______ _ _

He’d been almost certain he was about to die and it’s strange to stand here now, alive.

______ _ _

Lyn-z is humming something as she goes about cleaning up the tables. It sounds punk maybe, or rock? Either way, it’s got a beat that usually wouldn’t be fit for humming but Gerard finds himself nodding his head along.

______ _ _

He thought everything would change now, since Lyn-z turned out to be a demon and Frank left. But not much has differed if he’s honest. He still goes to work, hangs out with Mikey and Lyns. The only change is that Frank doesn’t show up now at the end of his shift.

______ _ _

And Gerard misses him. He can admit to that at least, that he misses the conversations and how good of a listener Frank was. The thought makes his shoulder ache a bit though. That was one thing he lied to Mikey about too. His left shoulder is better, yeah. But if he uses it too much it begins to get this dull ache. It usually goes away so long as he rests it but he’s been researching about something like those arthritis sleeves to try and help. 

______ _ _

He glances up, on instinct, as the doorbell goes off. The lady he served steps out the door, zipping up her thick coat and sipping enthusiastically on her coffee. Gerard comes out from behind the counter, skirt swaying along with his steps, and locks the door behind her. 

______ _ _

Lyn-z rounds the corner, mop in hand.

______ _ _

“Wanna do the honors while I do the register? We can get outta here in like, half the time.”

______ _ _

“You just want to get out of moping,” Gerard bites back, giggling as he snatches the mop and gets to work.

______ _ _

As he does with most things, he lets his mind wander as he cleans. He thinks about how hard he panicked this evening before he started walking to work. Sure, reassuring Mikey that he was going to be fine going back to work today took his mind off of the skirt he was wearing. But when it was actually time for him to go outside in a skirt, for the first time in _forever_ , all that anxiety came barreling back up.

______ _ _

Because it shouldn’t be that hard. He likes skirts. He enjoys wearing them. So why the fuck would anyone care.

______ _ _

But that’s the thing. People do care. At least three people did a double take as he walked down the sidewalk this evening. Thank god Lyn-z walked with him the rest of the way after he met her halfway. 

______ _ _

He’s been terrified all day but it’s in like, the good way. If that doesn’t make him sound like a complete crazy person. 

______ _ _

As much as he’s been waiting on someone to say something, or for another asshole to call him something horrible, he’s so fucking relieved that that hasn’t happened today. Maybe Lyn-z has used her fancy demon powers to ward off any assholes. Or maybe Gerard could pass as a girl with his hair up and a skirt on. Of course that goes out the window the second he talks but like, there’s loads of cis girls with super deep voices.

______ _ _

And it’s not that he’s a girl. ‘Cause he’s not. He doesn’t really put a label on this kinda stuff. He sorta goes with it, because all that questioning is a hassle and it was easier for him to shrug and do whatever he wanted. So what if he likes skirts and makeup.

______ _ _

It’s not that easy and he has a nasty scar on his leg as proof that not everyone understands. But like, at the same time, as hard as it was to wear a skirt again, it was so much easier than he thought it would be. Maybe he’s stronger now. Hell maybe he’s finally fucking healing and one day he’ll be able to use a mirror and not remember what he’s gone through.

______ _ _

“If you stare at the tiles anymore I’m pretty sure they’re gonna get up and walk away.” Gerard blinks. Lyn-z is smiling at him, her bag on her shoulder and the store keys on her finger. How long had he been moping that one spot?

______ _ _

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, glancing down at his feet.

______ _ _

But he smiles when he sees the small sharks on the skirt and the way it twirls a bit when he slings the mop back in the bucket.

______ _ _

“All good. You were doin’ a pretty good job at cleaning so I figured I’d let you zone out. Are you ready to go?”

______ _ _

Gerard nods and hurries to put away the mop and things, anxious to get back home. He’s exhausted and all he really wants is to curl up and sleep.

______ _ _

About halfway to the door, Lyn-z dangling the keys behind him as she walks, Gerard hears a thump. He pauses, confused. 

______ _ _

A growl comes from somewhere behind him and suddenly Gerard is frozen again. All he can see is the horrible green eyes of the ghoul right before it attacked him. His shoulder flares in phantom pain and he isn’t even sure if the growl was real but it _feels_ like it is.

______ _ _

“What the fuck,” Lyn-z whispers under her breath, turning to glance behind them.

______ _ _

“You- you heard it too?”

______ _ _

______ _ _

Gerard’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest and he is moments away from a panic attack.

______ _ _

“Yes. But it- it shouldn’t be here.” Lyn-z shakes her head. “I’ve masked my energy and Frank’s is no longer on you.”

______ _ _

Gerard isn’t sure what that means but he’s too afraid to ask. What happens if Lyn-z can’t fight this one off like she did the last one. What if this one kills him.

______ _ _

A scream tears through the heavy silence weighing over them, sending goosebumps down Gerard’s arms and making him flinch. Lyn-z takes off in a run, darting back through the store and into the kitchen before flinging the backdoor open. Gerard follows close behind, breathing heavily and trying to keep up with her pace.

______ _ _

They step out together into the dark, soaking wet alley. Instantly Gerard is hit with the unmistakable scent of wet dog and blood.

______ _ _

The ghoul has someone backed against a wall, it’s claw embedded in their chest as it snaps its jaws menacingly in their face. The person is barely fighting back anymore, their movements sluggish and their voice hoarse.

______ _ _

Lyn-z steps into action, lifting her hand and making a quiet grunting sound that Gerard barely hears over the sound of the rain pouring down around them. A bright white light slowly begins to branch out from her outstretched hand. It builds for a few seconds before she tenses and it fires directly at the ghoul, hitting it square in the back.

______ _ _

The monster growls and tears its claw out of the person, leaving them to fall unhindered onto the wet pavement. Lyn-z charges another… bolt-thing as the ghoul shakes itself and begins slowly walking closer.

______ _ _

Gerard feels like he’s about to puke as it’s beady green eyes meet his. He can see the intelligence in them, how it understands that he feels pain but chooses not to care. It sends fear through his entire body, keeps him frozen in place as the monster takes a step closer.

______ _ _

______ _ _

This one is bigger, nearly up to Gerard’s shoulders. He can practically feel it’s teeth tearing into his skin and he nearly forgets that Lyn-z is even here at all. That is, until she fires another, even stronger, bolt at the creature.

______ _ _

______ _ _

It goes down almost instantly, hitting the ground with a dull thud. But it doesn’t stay down long. Within seconds it’s dragging itself back up and bearing its teeth. Lyn-z growls as well and the whole alley gains a red hue.

______ _ _

Gerard blinks to try and make the color change back to normal until he realizes that it’s Lyn-z’s magic that’s making everything turn blood red. She’s charging something else now, something the same red as the air around them. Gerard can feel its power, can feel it like the hum of electricity in a quiet room. He steps back until he meets the cold, wet wall of the coffee shop and squeezes his eyes shut.

______ _ _

There’s a zap, like the sound of a bug zapper killing a huge moth, and a thud. A gasp comes from where Lyn-z stands and Gerard opens his eyes in a panic. She sways a little and Gerard is quick to rush over and steady her.

______ _ _

______ _ _

“Shit,” He shouts over the rain and the ringing in his ears. “Lynds are you okay?”

______ _ _

She shakes her head and pushes him away. He follows her eyes to the crumpled person a few feet away, unmoving since the ghoul dropped them.

______ _ _

Gerard shifts out of his panic mode and into the same one he uses whenever Mikey used to get hurt when they were little. He slides down onto his knees beside the fallen person and carefully, gently, turns them over.

______ _ _

The person gasps, a wet, pained sound, and their eyes fly open almost hysterically. But Gerard’s frozen again. His eyes wide and heart stuttering in his chest as the person coughs deeply.

______ _ _

“ _Frank_?” 

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so please don't hate me!!  
> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger but like, it had to happen. Next one won't have one i can assure you. Hehe
> 
> So, Frank's perspective being put into the light a bit. He's dumb but like, he didn't Mean for everything to go down the way that it did.  
> Also, hmm I wonder what on earth he and ray were talking about? ;) Maybe we don't know everything about Frank? Who knows.  
> And yes Gerard wore the skirt to work. And yes i was kind to him and didn't have anyone give him trouble for it. He looks pretty in the skirt and assholes can just deal with it.  
> Once again, Lyn-z is amazing.  
> And shit. Frank's really gotten himself in trouble hasn't he?  
> I mean, just happening to get attacked right outside of Gerard's work??? hmmm. Almost like it was meant to be that they see eachother again. Hell, maybe they'll talk things out. That is, if the ghoul didn't actually kill him this time.  
> Hehe. I'm sorry for the pain but what can I say, Frank really seems to have someone out to get him.  
> But, aside from be trying to be cryptic and in all seriousness, it would mean a lot to hear what you guys think! What your thoughts are on frank and his predicament and weather or not you think Gerard is going to even talk to him. Or just like, if you liked this or not. I live for feedback haha  
> Thank you all so much for reading and I'll see you next week! <3


	11. I thought of Angels, Choking on their Halos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * graphic blood/injury  
> *mentions of abuse  
> *brief eating disorder mention  
> * talk of a suicide attempt (some detail but not very graphic)  
> *violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so please don't be mad! I know it's been like two weeks since i last updated!  
> But I was really, really struggling with this chapter. Partially because I have realized that updating every single week is getting to be a Lot. I've been updating something every week for like, the past year or so and so I'm honestly unable to keep up at that pace. My mental health isn't the best lately either and so i have to give myself somewhat of a break. And I swear, I'm not ever going to abandon this or anything. But it will go to updates every other week and there may be times when it spans a few extra days. I'm sorry for taking so long with updating this chapter before I told you guys that. I don't want it to seem like i'm not invested in this story anymore. Because that's not the case. I love this fic, so much. I think about it all the time. I just, have to focus on other things too.  
> SO yeah, next chapter will be posted- hopefully- on the 15h of July. I love you guys <3
> 
> Also, HUge freaking thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for her amazing editing skills- my grammar SUcks guys you have no idea- and for just being so supporting of this fic and me. She's the best and I couldn't do this without her. <3  
> Okay, enjoy guys!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Just one Yesterday by fob*

“Oh god, _Frank_?”

Gerard brings his shaking hands to Frank’s face, placing his palms on either side and trying desperately to get him to open his eyes. There’s blood slowly dripping down the corner of his mouth, a dark stream of red against the too pale color of his cheeks. That’s nothing compared to the heavy stream of blood absolutely pouring from Frank’s chest, coating his clothes and growing into a pool on the ground around him. 

There's so much that Gerard can’t tell if it’s water or blood he’s currently kneeling in. All he can focus on is Frank’s face, pinched tight with pain. How Frank’s soaked to the bone and shivering, though he can’t tell if that’s from shock or the cold rain pouring down around them. Possibly both.

The whole world has narrowed down to only this. To Gerard kneeling here in a dirty alley and Frank, who he _swore_ he would never see again, currently barely conscious. 

The smell alone makes Gerard sick to his stomach, the stench of wet dog combined with the metallic smell of so much blood, and he has to resist the urge to puke his guts up.

Despite being afraid of what he might find, Gerard leans forward to pull back Frank’s jacket to inspect the damage. 

His hands hover over the bloody, torn fabric and his mouth falls open in shock as he’s met with four deep puncture wounds in Frank’s chest. They’re off to the side but still worryingly close to his heart, and Gerard has to take a shaky breath in order to keep his composure. He glances up at Frank’s face, simply from habit. 

Frank’s eyes are fluttering now, not really open but not quite closed either. Gerard says his name but either his voice doesn’t carry over the rain, or Frank simply can’t hear him. He isn’t sure what’s worse and the panic that seeing him like this brings is almost overwhelming. Gerard can feel it threatening to take over, to swallow him whole. But he fights it back down, hard.

Lyn-z is… somewhere. Gerard doesn’t know and he’s too busy muttering a quiet apology as he presses down hard over the wounds on Frank’s chest to try and figure out where she is. Warm blood coats his hands and Frank cries out, but it’s too quiet of a sound. 

Gerard can feel each breath he takes, the slow inhale/exhale the only thing that is keeping him from breaking down right here. Because yeah, sure, he was pissed at Frank for breaking his heart like he did, but Gerard would have never wanted _this_. Frank doesn’t deserve to die like this just like Gerard didn’t deserve to die the night he was attacked. 

Fuck, what is he supposed to _do_?

He can’t just heal Frank. He’s not magic. And he’s not even sure if Lyn-z can heal and- and-

“Here.”

Lyn-z places her hands overtop Gerard’s. She’s impossibly warm compared to Gerard’s freezing hands and he looks up at her desperately in a silent plea to help, to save Frank because he can’t.

She seems to understand what he’s asking and pulls a deep, uncertain breath.

“My powers were not made to heal. They’re not the same kind or for the same purpose as the younger demons’. Hell was very different when I was born.”

She sounds like she’s apologizing and Gerard can feel his heart in his throat as he glances down to Frank again. 

“So, is he gonna…”

God. Gerard can’t even _say_ it. 

Because it can’t just end like this, can it? If Frank dies here then he’ll never know why he left, why he just _abandoned_ Gerard right when he needed him.

He _needs_ to know why. And he knows that he’s being selfish for wanting Frank to make it so he can get his answers. He was supposed to _move on_ , but it’s obvious from the deep rooted ache in his heart just from the _thought_ of Frank dying, that he hasn’t moved on at all. He still cares for Frank. More than he probably should.

But he doesn’t want him to die. That’s all it boils down to, whether he gets answers or not.

“I can try to heal him, jump start his healing factor into doing it’s job,” Lyn-z tells him uncertainly, glancing between him and Frank a couple of times. “But I can’t promise anything.”

Gerard takes in Frank’s form, who’s now nearly completely unconscious, and realizes with a sinking feeling that if he dies here he will never get to see his eyes light up when they’re talking again. How Frank will never get the chance to come over for a movie night like Gerard had been secretly working himself up to asking. Or how he won’t be able to make him try a different type of coffee every time he comes into the shop and laugh when he makes a face because it’s too strong. Or- or- any of the little things like that, that Gerard had almost convinced himself he didn’t miss while Frank was gone.

“Do it. Please.”

He doesn’t care about how unlikely it is that this will work, they have to try _something_. They _can’t_ just let Frank die.

Lyn-z doesn’t waste any time with an answer as she closes her eyes. Her face twists in concentration, hands pressed impossibly firm on top of Gerard’s. Gradually, as if the light was crawling out of the brick walls around them, a red glow begins to cover the alley. It bathes the three of them in a deep, maroon light, strongest around Lyn-z.

Gerard watches, transfixed, as it bleeds down into Frank through their hands. He can _feel_ it, the energy or whatever this is, as it passes through his hands and into Frank’s wounds. It’s a strange feeling, like a harmless eclectic current going through him, and it makes the hairs on his body stand on end. 

Something in his gut tells him to relax into the feeling and so he does, closing his eyes and simply feeling the magic flow through him. There’s a small pull inside his chest and at first, he tugs back. But then he understands what it wants and when the pull comes again, Gerard lets it take what it wants. It’s not a lot, but soon a steady stream of his own… energy, he’s assuming that’s what this is, begins to join in with Lyn-z’s. He can feel it as it gently flows out from his hands, mixes with hers, and then disappears into Frank.

Within another minute the pull fades completely and, slowly, the magic stops flowing through him. The alley returns to the shadows and Lyn-z pulls her hands away. She’s breathing heavy but she is quick to move Frank’s jacket to the side in order to inspect the wounds. 

Meanwhile, Gerard pants heavily, feeling like he just spent one of those nights where he’s too wired to sleep and tries to tire himself out by walking all over town. He hasn’t done that in a while but it’s a surefire method to get him out like a light for at least six hours.

Except, he hasn’t walked anywhere. This must be the… effect helping Lyn-z heal Frank has. It’s not exactly a pleasant feeling but it’s worth it when she casts a reassuring smile his way.

He leans over Frank and watches Lyn-z inspect the now shallow, pink wounds in his chest. They’re no longer bleeding and they appear to be weeks old, rather than a few minutes. The comfort of knowing that Frank doesn’t appear to be dying anymore solidifies as Lyn-z brushes a hand over her face and sits back, relieved.

“It worked,” she assures him with a smile. “I can feel his magic kicking in. It’s gonna take a little time, but he should be fine.”

Gerard can only nod and swipe the hair out of his eyes. He has finally managed to catch his breath again but he can already tell that walking home with Frank is not going to be easy, not with how drained he feels. And it’s not like they can just leave him here.

“I called Mikey,” Lyn-z adds, apparently reading his mind. “He’s on his way, should be here any second.”

It’s only about 10 minutes before the sound of the family car reaches Gerard’s ears. He’s remained beside Frank, holding his hand tightly as if the little bit of contact will warm up the rest of him. If _Gerard’s_ freezing and he _isn’t_ the one who almost got clawed to death, then there’s no telling how Frank must be feeling. But, truthfully, the grip he has is mostly serving to help keep him from giving into the panic that's threatening to overtake him every time he catches sight of the bloody mess surrounding them. 

The dead body of the ghoul lies less than a foot away, cold and unmoving. It’s all settling in now, the realization of what just happened. It feels like it’s in slow motion, but Gerard is discovering that he just survived his second run-in with a ghoul and that he just saved the asshole who left him at the drop of a hat.

He doesn’t have time to spiral down where _that_ thought would have inevitably led, because within moments Mikey rounds the corner. His sneakers slap against wet pavement as he jogs over- when had the rain stopped?- and he stops about a foot away from where Gerard and Frank are on the ground, staring at them with wide eyes. Then he glances to the dead ghoul lying to his right and noticeably pales.

“What-” he begins but he’s quickly stopped by Lyn-z grabbing the blankets he was carrying out of his arms.

“I'll answer questions after we get the two of them out of the cold.”

Gerard chuckles but cannot hide his blatant relief as a warm, _dry_ blanket is draped over his shoulders and Mikey pulls him up. He almost protests being helped like this, but he quickly finds that the adrenaline and panic have turned his knees into jelly and left his head spinning. 

He leans against Mikey as he carefully guides him out onto the sidewalk, where the car has been left running. Behind them, Gerard can hear Lyn-z carrying Frank out as well.

The heat is on full blast as Mikey settles Gerard into the back and wraps another blanket around him. Lyn-z does the same for Frank and settles him down beside Gerard. 

He falls asleep the second Mikey puts the car into drive, Frank’s head on his lap.

_______________________________________

_______________________________________

Gerard wakes in his own bed. 

He’s staring up at his ceiling, trying to piece together what he remembers and why his head throbs. Then the events of last night come into focus gradually and he’s sitting up so quickly that he makes himself dizzy.

Despite this, he stands in a hurry and only takes a second to glance around. His room is dark but there’s a light coming from the bottom of the door at the top of the stairs. There’s voices coming from there as well and Gerard begins making his way upstairs without a second thought.

The light of the living room proves to be harsh and it makes him have to squint in order to see who the voices belong to. He finds Mikey sitting cross legged on one of the couches, turned in surprise as Gerard barged in. Lyn-z is on the chair, a mug of what smells like tea in her hand and a blanket around her shoulders. 

They’re both staring at Gerard as he just stands there, mind reeling for him to figure out what to do. But then Mikey’s eyes dart over to the other couch and Gerard’s follow automatically.

Frank is carefully laid out on the pale green sofa, wrapped snugly in no less than three blankets and, to Gerard’s astonishment and mild horror, _awake_. Frank lifts his eyes as if he can feel Gerard’s gaze and all at once he finds himself being drawn into Frank’s eyes for the first time in over a month. 

There’s no magical teen flick moment where everything focuses on the other person and Gerard falls in love again or some other fake bullshit. No, it’s a climbing, building panic as he realizes that he’s in the same room as Frank. That he’s just standing here and that he needs to say something to break the tension that has settled over the room.

But he can’t speak. Because the first thing that Gerard notices is how there are dark, heavy circles under Frank’s eyes and how his hair is matted down against his head. His eyes are tired and filled with… sadness, maybe? But definitely a bone sort of weariness that Gerard remembers from when he was nearly killed by one of the ghouls. 

However, as bad as Frank looks, he does appear to have been cleaned up. There’s no dried blood or anything on his clothes. In fact, he’s wearing one of Mikey’s hoodies, a large grey one that swallows him nearly whole and hangs low enough around his neck for Gerard to see the light pink of the barely healed wounds in his chest.

Even so, if Frank’s eyes weren’t open and he wasn’t actively avoiding Gerard’s gaze now, he could almost appear to be dead. Gerard shoves that thought away as quickly as humanly possible. But his mouth is moving faster than his head and he finds himself blurting out the next thing that comes to mind.

“You look like shit.”

Mikey snorts and Gerard notices Lyn-z give his brother a scowl in reprimand, but he’s too focused on how Frank’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest. His face is so blank, so barren in comparison to how animated he usually is. Hell, he looks downright _depressed_. And Gerard should know, he’s been there a lot in his life. 

He can recognize the heavy sort of sadness written all over Frank, the same sadness Gerard used to see when he would use a mirror. The kind of sad that goes beyond TV shows getting canceled or accidentally burning dinner. It’s the sort that you can’t just shrug off, the kind that eats away at you if you let it. 

Seeing Frank like this is enough to nearly break Gerard’s heart. It's as if he's waiting on something to drop, to go wrong.

He hopes, God he _prays_ , that it isn’t because of him. 

“He’s mostly healed,” Lyn-z supplies, picking up on Gerard’s subpar communication skills and answering before he tries to ask. “But it’ll be a couple days before he’s back to full strength.”

Gerard nods dumbly, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from Frank. He can see a few more tattoos peeking out from underneath the hoodie he's wearing, dark ink curling into words and pictures that Gerard is just itching to see more of. To know the stories behind.

It’s probably not what he should be caught up on right now. There’s so much more that’s almost infinitely more important. But just like he doesn’t know what Frank’s tattoos mean, Gerard doesn’t know much about anything when it comes to Frank.

Even after all those questions he asked him, all he really got were more unanswered questions. He shouldn’t be as curious as he is. He should throw Frank out right now and continue with getting on with his life. But he can’t. He’s too curious, too confused. Gerard needs answers and he won’t get them if he makes Frank leave.

He just, isn’t sure if that’s a bad thing or not.

“Mikey,” Lyn-z asks out of nowhere. “Will you help me get the laundry?” 

The two of them share a strange series of odd looks, nearly rivaling his and Gerard’s silent conversations, before Mikey apparently catches on and follows her out of the room. 

Gerard is frowning at the doorway they left through when Frank’s hand touches his. It takes him by surprise and on instinct he jerks away. 

In a hushed tone Frank apologizes and retreats his hand back into the mountain of blankets he's underneath. He won’t look at Gerard when he mumbles a hurried sorry of his own. 

From there, an awkward hush falls over them. Gerard keeps his attention everywhere but Frank’s face, on the sunlight streaming through the curtains that tells him he’s slept until at least lunch time. To the pizza sauce stain on his pajama bottoms from the last movie night he had with Mikey. Anything to stall having to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to say in this situation.

He feels kinda stupid for flinching. It’s not like Frank’s in any shape to hurt him, even if he wanted to. Which _is_ something Gerard isn’t a hundred percent certain of the likelihood of. He doesn’t _think_ Frank meant to hurt him but there’s just too much that he doesn’t know.

But he won’t be the one to talk first, to apologize first. He needs an explanation before anything else.

Thankfully, Frank soon breaks the silence.

“Lynds said you helped heal me,” he states, his voice fragile and hoarse.

As Gerard tries to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to say to _that_ , Frank begins dragging his elbows underneath him and propping himself up. He hisses in discomfort but waves away Gerard’s nervous, helping hands when he tries to reach for him.

“ ‘m fine. ‘S just gonna be sore as a bitch for a couple ‘a days.”

“Oh,” Gerard says softly, bringing his hands back to his lap as Frank gets situated.

He watches, curious, as Frank brings a shaking hand up to tug the same strand of hair as always behind his ear before he continues. Gerard didn’t think that he missed seeing that, something so mundane and repetitive, but he _did_. And a pleasant fluttering feeling replaces the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach.

“But seriously, Gee. You didn’t have ‘t help me. I- I wouldn’t have blamed either of you if you’d just left me there after the shit I put you through.”

He sounds defeated, as if Gerard was angry enough at him to let him just die like that. Alone in an alley, bleeding out. 

“I couldn’t leave you there…”

“But-” Frank shakes his head. “After I fucked up so bad, I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you’d have walked th’other way.”

Gerard frowns deeply and sets his hand on Frank’s leg overtop the blankets. 

“I wouldn’t just let you die. No matter _how_ mad or hurt I was. No one deserves to die like that.”

Frank stares at his own hands and clearly struggles for a moment to find the words. Gerard stays quiet and lets him sort his thoughts out on his own. He’s not the one who needs to apologize, Frank is, but he keeps his hand on his leg as a sort of peace offering. To show Frank he’s willing to listen and try to understand his side.

“You’re still mad at me?” Frank whispers without looking up.

That raises a red flag in Gerard’s mind, flashes of a stupid internet article coming back to him about how turning the blame in conversations like this are a major sign that the person is insincere or using you. He feels stupid for having that damn article memorized but anything to avoid repeating past mistakes, right?

“Frank,” Gerard says slowly, almost like a warning.

It could have just come out wrong and he’s willing to give Frank the benefit of the doubt in regards to this conversation. But, just like before, his attraction to Frank cannot and _will_ _not_ come before his own health and safety. It’s as simple as that.

“No,” Frank says quickly. “Shit _no_ I didn’t mean it like- like you shouldn’t be mad at me. Because you _should_. God I fucked up so bad, Gee…”

“You did.”

This time, Frank lifts his eyes and meets Gerard’s gaze. Something unreadable passes over his features but it’s gone before he can make out what it is. Frank begins fidgeting with one of the covers anxiously but, once again, Gerard waits him out. 

“I um, I didn’t just plan on leaving you like that… it was honestly a huge mistake and I regretted it the second I realized what it’d done.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Frank jerks his head up, seemingly taken back by Gerard’s question. 

“I- it’s probably easier if I just start from the beginning and explain?” Gerard motions for him to keep going. “Okay, so I was freaking out like- basically the whole time because I didn’t realize that the ghoul could or even _would_ go after you until like- right before it attacked you. And that’s on me. I should’a figured that out because it’s obvious now that I know but- but at the time it just didn’t click until I heard something Ray said. And after I realized you might be in danger, I rushed back but I was already behind because my assignment was taking fucking _ages_ and- and so by the time I got there….”

“I was hurt and Lyn-z was killing the thing,” Gerard finishes for him, eyeing Frank to gauge his reaction.

He nods and turns his eyes away again, but he seems more ashamed than like he’s trying to hide anything. 

“Okay…” Gerard says calmly. “So you fucked up and didn’t realize something obvious. How does that lead to you leaving like an asshole?”

Frank flinches but his voice is louder when he resumes speaking, as if he knows how important this part is.

“I panicked," he explains. "Because that ghoul was only following you because it smelled me on you and- and then I wasn’t there. It’s _my_ fault you were hurt. So, in the moment, leaving felt like the best option. That way I wouldn’t put you in danger anymore because I can’t always be around to protect you.” Frank snorts and gestures to his chest. “Not that I’m all that good at protecting myself, either.”

Gerard is the one to look away this time, staring down at his hands as he processes what he’s been told. He picks at the dried black paint under his nails and tries to determine if there was any falsity in Frank's words. When he finds none, he nods his head in a silent show of understanding. To say Frank relaxes is an understatement. He sags as if worlds have been let off his shoulders but he’s not done explaining and, thankfully, Gerard doesn’t have to remind him of that.

“So the reason I didn’t just come back once I realized that was just the panic talking was that um… I kinda passed out for a couple of days. I’m not the strongest healer, not by a long shot, and healing you took a lot out of me so I ended up crashing the second I sat down. By the time I woke up I figured that it was too late to come back. The damage had already been done, you know?”

“Frank…”

“I know,” Frank amends quickly. “I know that I should have just sucked it up and told you the truth but I was so afraid that I’d put you in danger again. I couldn’t _live_ with myself if you got hurt again because of me.”

Frank is quiet after that for a long time and Gerard is thankful for the heavy pause because it allows him to get his thoughts about what Frank said into order.

He’d like to think he’s pretty good at reading people, at telling when they’re lying or being sincere. And right now, everything in him is saying that Frank is telling the truth. 

Besides, just putting himself in Frank’s shoes makes Gerard certain that he’d probably have done the same if situations were reversed. It was a shit situation and almost everything seemed to go wrong at once. He can understand how Frank would have panicked and impulsively ran. And, while it hurts that he didn’t come back once he realized his mistake, he understands his reasoning for that as well.

“Lyn-z got all your scent off of me,” Gerard tells him, making Frank lift his head. 

“How?”

“Magic?” he shrugs. “I dunno. But she got it all off so they wouldn’t keep coming after me and then completely blocked her’s or whatever. Maybe- maybe she could show you how to do that too?”

Frank’s eyes go wide.

“Wait- are you- are you saying I can _stay_?”

Finally, a smile breaks out on Gerard’s face and he nods.

“Yeah. You can stay.”

Frank absolutely _beams_ at him, his eyes going so bright that it makes Gerard’s heart ache.

“I- I fuck, Gee. Thank you so much. I-”

“Just,” he cuts him off, making his voice stern again. “Just promise me that you’ll talk to me first if you feel like you wanna run off again?”

“Yeah, yeah I promise, Gee.”

Gerard lets himself relax, satisfied by Frank’s sincerity. 

And, maybe it’s just the relief he’s feeling now that he knows Frank wasn’t trying to hurt him on purpose, but there's part of him that’s whispering that he’s ready. Ready for this. For their hands intertwined as they sit together on the couch. To go on a real date where maybe he can show Frank his favorite movies. Ready to give this, whatever it is, a shot.

It’s a, frankly, terrifying prospect, opening himself up like that. He swore to himself that he would never go through this shit again, having feelings for someone and letting them in. And Gerard seriously considers ignoring the butterflies or whatever in his stomach, ignoring the way Frank’s relaxed, sleepy smile makes his heart feel warm. But how can he?

It’s not something he can ignore. He can’t even justify it by saying he doesn't trust Frank, because he does trust him. If Frank didn’t actually care, if he was really only in it to hurt or get something out of him, then he wouldn’t have had this whole conversation they just had. Gerard’s ex sure as _Hell_ didn’t put in that kind of effort. 

If Gerard brought up something that was wrong, he would just flip it back onto Gerard and then, somehow, it was always him who was apologizing in the end. It was always a game of blame, rather than actually working through something. 

So, if anything, Gerard should be like- _jumping_ on the opportunity to get to maybe try and see where his relationship with Frank goes. But he’s _afraid_. God he’s so scared.

Because everything seemed so good at first with his ex. Thinking back, he can see the warning signs and the way he was just a bit too love blind. But in the moment? It felt normal. It felt a lot like this. 

And _that’s_ what’s so terrifying. Because how can he possibly know how this ends? He can’t see the future. He can’t just magically know Frank’s true intentions.

“Gee?” 

Frank waits until Gerard glances over to flip his hand in an offer to hold it. Gerard hadn’t even realized he’d withdrawn his hand from Frank’s leg in the first place, or that he’d begun to curl in on himself against the couch. He takes a steadying breath to push the worst of the gnawing panic away and connects his hand with Frank’s.

The warmth in his touch is surprising and it’s almost as if Frank is making his own heat. Which, wouldn’t be all that far fetched, seeing as Gerard’s literally holding hands with a demon. Life is strange that way.

Though, the heat radiating from Frank’s hand makes Gerard wonder if there’s even more that he doesn’t know about him. The night he asked him all of those questions, he had a feeling Frank was holding back on a few things. And I mean, could he blame him?

It’s not like Gerard’s sat there and spilled his guts. Frank barely knows anything about him, nothing serious anyway. Sure, he knows about Mikey and about how much of a nerd Gerard is, hours of listening to him talk about comics and horror movies probably sealed that in, but Frank doesn’t know everything.

But, maybe- maybe if Gerard wants this to work, if he wants to start a relationship the right way…. Maybe it’s time for him to tell Frank?

He can feel his heartbeat pick up just from the thought but Frank catches on and offers him a comforting squeeze of his hand. And Gerard doesn’t know what to do with that, that wordless assurance that everything is okay and that Frank is there for him. 

Gerard blows a sharp breath, a somewhat successful attempt to sike himself up for this. He’s trembling, he’s sure of it, but now that the thought has crossed his mind he’s discovering how much he wants to share this with Frank. Because not even Mikey knows everything. Maybe getting it off his chest and being able to trust it to someone like Frank, maybe it’ll help.

“Frank,” Gerard says far too quickly, his voice coming out panicked enough to make Frank lift his head. “I- I- um-”

“Hey, what is it?”

Frank’s hazel eyes are easy and careful as he rubs his thumb over the top of Gerard’s hand.

“I need to um- to tell you something. Since you like- since I know you’re not an asshole now.”

“Who says I’m not an asshole?” Frank teases.

Though, his joking expression falls when Gerard can’t bring himself to even smile. 

“Gee, seriously. What’s wrong?” he asks, far more carefully than before.

As if Gerard might shatter if he presses too hard. But, for once, the sentiment doesn’t bother him as much as it usually does. The things he knows he’s better at, eating and actually ya know, taking care of himself- those are the things he doesn’t want people to tiptoe around him on. But this? This is a _huge_ first step, with an infinitely terrifying series of possible reactions from both Frank and himself. So, Frank giving him a cushion like this, keeping his voice soft and his hand snugly in Gerard’s- it helps. A lot.

“I just- I figured it’s time I told you, I guess…”

“You can tell me anything,” Frank assures him when he lets his sentence hang for a long moment.

Gerard nods, because he knows that. But it doesn’t make this any easier.

“So I uh- I had this boyfriend. He um. He went to the same college as me, took a lotta the same classes, you know?” Frank nods in mild confusion. “So we started going out and- and he was sweet. I really liked him.”

And that’s not a lie. Gerard did genuinely like him. That’s one of the reasons he took so long to leave, because he cared for him enough to be blinded into everything else. He left still loving him.

But he doesn’t anymore.

“He convinced me to drop out of school and move with him to the city. I- I thought it’d be like those books. Where we’d have a small apartment together and we’d be friends with the baristas who work at the coffee shop on our block. That we’d get a dog or- or maybe a cat and I’d work from home, doing commissions or something similar. And he’d work close by and always be home in time for dinner. That we’d live there until we saved up enough money to move somewhere quiet. And I’d open my own store and maybe make my own comics. And- and I had a whole _life_ planned out in my head when I said yes.”

“What happened?”

Gerard glances over to Frank and finds that his eyes are sad again, like they were when he walked through earlier. As if he knows the story Gerard’s telling sounds too good to be true. And it hurts because that’s exactly what it is.

“I dunno,” Gerard admits, sighing to try and get the tightness in his chest to dissipate enough for him to finish this. “I- I guess he got me where he wanted me. Because he didn’t change, he was always so easy to anger and really good at making things my fault. But I just didn’t see the full extent of it until I was living alone with him. He um- he got mean though. Like- he would just say the most…. hurtful things. He was the reason I- I stopped eating. Because he would say that I didn’t gain the freshman 15, I did the freshman 100. And- and I mean he wasn’t _wrong_ but just the way he said it. I dunno. It fucked with me. And after that, it only got worse. He’d lash out over the smallest things. Me dropping a plate because my hands were shaking, or because I had spent too much time painting that day. Just- the stupidest shit would set him off. And, eventually he got- uh physical too. He’d hit me or- or leave bruises and- and I just woke up one day and realized I was stuck.”

Frank makes a sound that’s more of a gasp than a breath and opens his mouth several times. He’s clearly pissed, like _actually_ about to commit murder levels of pissed off.

“Oh my god…” He fumes under his breath.

And, because Gerard is an idiot and very emotionally strung out right now, he winces and tries to pull his hand away. The anger in Frank’s voice sounds nothing like _his_ but his mind still pulls the emergency alarm that makes him want to just shut down.

But, the second Gerard pulls his hand out of Frank’s somehow still gentle grip, it seems to snap him out of it. He realizes the effect he’s had on Gerard immediately and the guilt and worry become transparent on his face.

“Shit- _shit_ Gee, I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you. I just- God I can’t fucking _believe_ that someone would- would-”

“Take pleasure in hurting someone else like that?”

Frank closes his mouth slowly. “Yeah…”

Gerard laughs weakly and runs a trembling hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the knots he encounters along the way. 

“Well he convinced me I deserved it. Said uh- said that he was helping me.”

He does air quotes around “helping” and Frank’s anger returns, this time in a controlled huff.

“Helping you?” he asks incredulously. 

“Yeah, worst part is, I believed him. I’ve had depression and anxiety basically since I was a teenager. Been on medicine for it nearly just as long. But those things aren’t a cure all and I still have bad days, you know? So he took those bad days as a sign that I wasn’t trying hard enough. That I was just milking it and doing the bare minimum.” Gerard snorts now, but at the time he had believed nearly every word of this. “So him getting mad at me was like- teaching me to help myself? I dunno. I was so out of it by that point I barely remember. I started uh- over medicating because of him. ‘Cause, big fucking surprise, him yelling at me and shit didn’t do very much for my mental health.”

Gerard takes a glance over again, pausing briefly as he searches for pity in the way Frank’s looking at him. It’s why he refuses to go to a professional to talk about this shit. He doesn’t want the pity. He doesn’t want to be thought of at as just another statistic, one that won’t be even glanced at because he’s a guy. Guys, especially gay guys, can’t be abused. Right?

But, the only thing Frank is showing is sympathy and- and something else Gerard can’t put his finger on. 

“So I um, got bad. Really bad. And he just- left. Said he was tired of being forced to take care of me as I ruined his life with my problems.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank curses under his breath.

Gerard has to look away now, as the worst of his memories come barreling up to the front of his mind. That stretch of a week or so where he was completely, totally alone. Because he had lost all of his friends from school by then. He hadn’t talked to Mikey in months. That week was where he discovered what rock bottom felt like and fell in love. 

“I don’t remember much,” Gerard continues, voice weak and flimsy. “But I know I went through almost a month’s supply of my meds in less than a week. And on um- on that last night I said fuck it and downed what was left in one go. I wasn’t really- I wasn't thinking but I remember just wanting to sleep. That maybe then I could wake up and things would be better. But I got scared and I called Mikey. I just wanted to hear his voice and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Because what if he left me like- like _he_ did.”

Frank gingerly sits up as Gerard wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He’s shaking even more now and he doesn’t even protest when Frank opens his arms for him to settle against him. Gerard does so gladly, soaking up the strength Frank is providing and using it to keep going.

“I fell asleep,” he says once he’s able. “At least- I think I did. I don’t remember anything after I hung up the phone. But hours later I showed up here. Mikey answered the door… He saved my life.”

The breath that Gerard takes after that, after it's all out in the open, is one of the lightest he's ever taken. His eyes are still too wet and his hands clammy, but he can’t deny that telling Frank has done something. It’s almost as if he’s… not free from it. That's not the right word. But it’s- it’s like that old saying, yeah? The burden of sorrow is doubled when it is borne alone. 

So maybe there’s some truth to that because it feels impossibly lighter now.

“How-” Frank’s voice cracks and he has to start again. “How long ago was this?”

Gerard shrugs and can feel Frank’s sharp intake of breath because, with the way they’re sitting, with Gerard’s back against his side, it must have rubbed against the sore part of his chest.

“ _Shit_ , sorry. Are you okay?” he asks, concerned as he sits up to keep from hurting Frank even more.

To his surprise however, Frank’s arms wrap loosely around his waist and he says, in a very small voice, 

“Please don’t move.”

“But I hurt you,” Gerard argues and sits up completely.

Frank lets him go without protest and Gerard maneuvers himself back on the other side of the couch. He curls into one of the blankets and tries to get his heart to settle down. Although, he can’t help but to feel bad when he notices the very clear way Frank is trying to mask the hurt he’s feeling from Gerard getting up.

But he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to reopen Frank’s injuries, especially when it was such a close call healing him the first time. He isn’t sure if he and Lyn-z would be lucky enough to pull that off a second time. 

“A year,” he admits, as a sort of compromise. “This month, actually. I came back home on November 24th.”

“Shit I- would it be cliche to say I’m proud of you?”

Finally, Gerard smiles. It’s a little weak with his eyes refusing to stay dry but it’s real. Of course Frank would be able to make him smile after something like this.

“No,” Gerard says honestly. “It’d be appreciated.”

The emotion in the look Frank gives him is, honest to god, pure adoration. Like, there’s nothing else Gerard could call the way his face softens as if he’s looking at something amazing, something that he cares about or- or _loves…_

 _Fuck_.

Then, that same unreadable expression from before returns. The strange one that Gerard just can’t place. Frank coughs lightly and takes a shuddery breath.

“I um- I know how hard that must have been just now. To say it all out loud. It makes it real.”

And yeah. That’s- that’s exactly what it does.

Because now that he’s told Frank, it’s almost like it’s been set in stone. It's not just in his head anymore. 

“I know how it feels because I- I can feel it right now just from even _thinking_ about saying this outloud.”

The panic in Frank’s voice is what gets Gerard, what pulls him back down to earth as he realizes that he wasn’t just comforting him. Frank really does know how he feels. And that’s something that makes his stomach tie itself into knots because he would never, _ever_ wish this on anyone else. The prospect of Frank going through something similar burns through him like the ghoul’s fangs went through his shoulder. He holds his breath as he waits on Frank to continue, knowing how hard it is to get those first few words out. 

He is not, however, prepared for when Frank does begin.

“The- the other day,” he says way too fast, words jumbling together in his rush. “The other day, when you were asking me those things about me. What my job is and things about Hell?”

“Yeah… ?” 

“You asked me if I was born human or if I had always been a demon. And I said neither.” And Gerard does remember. That’s the question Frank skipped. In fact, he changed the subject so fast that Gerard had just assumed it wasn’t something he was supposed to know. But the fear in Frank’s voice tells otherwise.

“Yeah?” he says again, far more careful this time.

Frank swallows hard and begins rubbing at one of the tattoos on his wrist. 

“I’m um… I’m an angel.”

And suddenly everything stops and Gerard is left replaying that sentence over and over in his head.

“You,” he begins in disbelief. “You’re an _angel_?”

Frank winces and his expression breaks. “ _Was_. I Fell. That’s- that’s why I’m a demon now. It’s why I said I wasn’t born a human or a demon. ‘Cause I wasn’t.”

It takes a moment for Gerard to be able to speak, let alone process what Frank is telling him. 

“I- um, how?”

Frank doesn’t tell him to fuck off or any of the thousands of things he _should_ say with Gerard demanding information again. Instead he just smiles, soft and sad, and runs his hand over the wounds on his chest like they're bothering him.

He’s probably made himself sore, sitting up like this so soon. But Gerard can’t find the words to tell him to lay back down.

“Do you remember me telling you about my best friend, Ray? Well I um- I Fell for him. ‘Cause Heaven is super fucking strict and it’s bullshit but they think that every demon is evil, no matter what. Like that they’re born monsters. And, ‘cause of that, demons only ever came up to Heaven when there were these like- diplomatic meetings or whatever. I never went to any, I was just a kid, maybe like 10? But that’s how I met Ray.”

Gerard’s heart breaks at that, at how young Frank was, and he can already tell that this isn’t going to be a pretty story. He wishes he hadn’t pulled away from Frank’s embrace now, if only so that he could try and offer some form of comfort through this.

“What- what happened?” Gerard asks, mirroring Frank’s earlier motion of turning his palm up for him to hold.

He takes his hand gladly and he’s visibly relieved as he starts speaking again.

“Ray was learning portals or something with the other demon kids. But they didn’t realize how strong he was and he made his all the way to Heaven and he ended up stranded there. Some big guards found him, started cornering him. It’s a crime for a demon to set foot in certain places and he’d happened to step out right in the middle of the Garden. I was just passing through but I saw them threaten to- to kill him and I just… couldn’t walk away. I tackled the biggest guard, knocked him to the ground and saved Ray’s life.”

Frank stops here. It’s a full stop, breath held and his grip tight around Gerard’s hand. He seems lost in it, in remembering. As if he’s reliving those moments all over again. And yeah, Gerard realizes that he wasn’t lying when he said he understood how hard it was for Gerard telling him those things earlier. It’s clear as day that telling this is something Frank’s never done, something that he wants to hold onto forever but is eating him up from the inside.

All Gerard can do is sit here, offer his support the only way he knows how. He squeezes Frank’s hand and, when that does nothing to change the now jagged way he’s breathing, lifts his other to gently cradle the side of Frank’s face. He watches, faces now somehow impossibly close, as Frank’s eyes flutter and he returns to the present.

He takes a shaky breath but leans into Gerard’s touch, letting his eyes close. 

“You don’t have to,” Gerard whispers, noticing the unshed tears clinging to Frank’s eyelashes. 

But there’s a determination in him now and he shakes his head ever so slightly.

“I want to.”

So, Gerard nods and reluctantly leans away. He keeps their hands together though, and tries to ignore how cold his other feels now that it’s no longer touching Frank’s skin.

Frank begins speaking again, sounding more sure now but still just as broken. 

“After I knocked down the Guard, they um- they said that I was defying God’s will. That this was a sign of Doubt. Which is like- the biggest sin an angel can commit. So, they uh- they fucking decided my punishment should be fitting for a demon. Since I was so fond of the one I saved.”

Gerard frowns but Frank is quick to wave his hand and explain. “Their words. But I mean, they weren’t wrong about that last part. I love Ray to death. Enough that I didn’t fight when they opened a portal right there and tossed us both into it… I remember it feeling like that moment right after you trip, where your whole body goes numb before you either catch yourself or hit the ground. Except I did neither. On my way down I Fell. Capital ‘F’.”

“And that made you a demon?”

“Yeah. Sorta. When an angel Falls it’s-it’s not pretty. Your angelic powers- or soul, I guess- is burned up in the process. You lose everything about you that was holy, essentially. My powers turned into what average demons have, slightly weaker because I was so young. And my um-” he takes a shaky breath and turns away. “My wings were torn to shreds. I remember that part clearly. That happened first.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gerard mutters, trying and failing to imagine what that must have _felt like_.

“Yeah,” Frank says sadly, the ghosting of a tired smile pulling at his lips. “I mean, I still have them. But I can’t use them at all. Fuck, I can barely feel them. Let alone move ‘em.”

And, because Gerard is impulsive and far too curious for his own good, he’s asking to see them before his brain even catches up. 

Frank pales but, amazingly, nods.

“You’ll have ‘t help me get this jacket off,” he says, motioning to Mikey’s hoodie he’s wearing. “ ‘m sore.”

Quickly, but cautiously, Gerard leans over and helps Frank to pull the hoodie over his head. Gerard keeps his eyes firmly shut, out of the respect of his privacy at the least. Frank winces audibly, sounding like he’s in quite a bit more pain than before.

Gerard is struck with memories of Frank after the attack. How dead he appeared. 

Was that what he looked like when he was attacked too? If so, he understands completely why Frank freaked and left.

Out of habit, and with his eyes still closed, Gerard reaches out worriedly.

“I’m fine,” he tells him, his tone almost too confident. “I’ve had much worse.”

With Frank sitting here shirtless, Gerard’s first instinct is to avert his eyes. He can feel himself blushing hard and all he really wants to do is take a peek but- but this is a _huge_ thing.

What if Frank has more tattoos? Will Gerard be able to keep from staring at them? Would Frank _mind_ if he stared at them?

But, more prominent is his fear of what Frank’s wings will look like. He’s not afraid of what they’ll look like, exactly. It’s more so that he isn’t ready to see how badly Frank was hurt over something as simple as helping out someone who was in trouble.

In the end, curiosity wins out and Gerard finds the strength to lift his eyes. 

Frank’s eyes are carefully turned away but he must have turned around when Gerard was making up his mind. Now, he’s sitting with his knees against his chest but his back facing Gerard. And, he was right, there are tattoos on his back. Too many to count. A huge piece on his lower back and smaller ones strategically placed in various other spots. But, what makes Gerard gasp aloud and shuffle closer is the sight of Frank’s wings.

They’re larger than he was expecting, spanning from one end to the other as long as Frank’s back, and they each connect at a point just beside his shoulder blades. It’s almost possible to tell what they would have been like before, but they are absolutely ruined beyond repair. 

Massive, torn chunks are missing from each wing and there are several places that are barely connected at all anymore. The few feathers left are a soft, almost sickly grey while most of the wings are just scared skin and bone. 

It’s a horrible sight but not for the reasons you might think. Yeah, Gerard’s stomach is sick from witnessing the state of Frank’s wings but it’s not from disgust. It’s from the sheer pain twisting in his gut at the thought of someone putting a _10 year old child_ through something like this.

“They used to be white,” Frank whispers, the first sound he’s made in what Gerard’s realizing has been a long time.

He has no clue how long he’s been sitting here, staring. All he knows is that Frank was afraid of his reaction to finding this out. And a sane person would probably bolt for the door. But the only thing Gerard wants right now is to make sure Frank knows that he doesn’t think he’s ugly or- or ruined because of this. 

Because he knows now what that flash in his eyes was earlier. It was the form of self hate and fear that comes from shit like this. From the world chewing you up and spitting you out with scars inside and out. 

And he will be damned if he lets Frank think he’s alone in this. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, like a prayer. 

Frank chuckles darkly. “I’m not. I’m a _freak_ , Gee.”

Something breaks in Gerard’s heart at that, at how he knows what that feels like and how horrible it is that Frank is feeling it right now.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, instead of answering directly. “I’ll be gentle.”

Frank nods, a tiny shake of his head that Gerard would have missed if he hadn’t have been paying attention. But it’s a yes, so he steps forward and sits down onto the couch behind Frank. 

He lifts his hand and, keeping his touch as light as possible, runs his fingers along the skin between the bases of Frank’s wings. He shivers under his touch but doesn’t ask him to stop, so Gerard slowly trails his fingers to his right wing.

The texture of the base is almost the same as his regular skin, warm to the touch but ever so slightly more firm. Almost like cartilage. Frank sighs shakilly as Gerard traces the lines at the top of his wing, all the way to the tip. He stays away from the middle and bottom, which are the most damaged and sensitive. 

He follows back down the way he came, before doing the same to the left wing, slowly dragging the tips of his finger along the top of his wing. He can feel each bump and curve in the skin, every scar and bald spot where feathers once were. 

Frank remains quiet but his posture relaxes almost infinitely as Gerard repeats the simple, slow movements over and over. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers again and, this time, Frank doesn’t try to deny it.

So he repeats it in time with the movement of his hands over Frank’s wings, until he shivers and leans away. Immediately Gerard retracts his hand and lets it fall to his lap. But he can’t stop the warmth filling in his chest, as if Frank’s warmth has found its way there as well.

He stands again as Frank turns back around, helping him to get the hoodie back on when he asks. They’re silent after that, as they sit together, sides touching and arms around each other. It’s not awkward like before though. It’s safe and it’s comfortable and Gerard allows it to wash over him gladly.

He stares at Frank’s arm around him, taking in all of the tattoos covering his skin and attempting to convert them all to memory. None of them make much sense and the few words he can make out are written in another language, but they're still so interesting that Gerard finds himself enthralled. He doesn’t even really like tattoos all that much but, he’s guessing, because it’s _Frank_ that they’re about a thousand times more interesting.

And hot. But that’s a thought he’s going to steer clear of for now.

The one he finds himself staring at the most though is a small, golden band around Frank's wrist. When he maneuvers his arm so that the can turn it around and trace it all the way around, he finds that it appears to be older than all the others. As if it was his first. 

“What’s this one mean?” he asks quietly, poking his finger at the point of the band right at the center of his wrist.

Frank goes quiet again and when he speaks, his voice hardly lifts at all.

“ ‘s my halo, Gee.”

_Oh_.

“Wait-” he says dumbly, unable to stop himself from staring at Frank’s head like it’ll just reappear there. “ _That_ used to be on your head?”

“Mhm. When I Fell it moved there I guess. I dunno how or why. But I’ve had it ever since then.”

“Oh.”

Frank takes his arm back and brings the palm of his hand to the side of Gerard’s face, just like he did for him. The touch sends a thousand thoughts racing through his head but Gerard has no time to act on them, or even process them, because before he knows it Frank is gently tilting his head towards him and leaning down.

Gerard should panic, he should pull away or do any number of things. But he’s stupid, and gay, and falling so hard for Frank that he leans in anyway. His eyes close just before Frank’s lips press against his. 

It feels nothing like he thought it would. Like the first sip of hot cocoa on a freezing night. The warmth of sharing a blanket with Mikey as they binge Buffy for 72 hours straight. Of long, lingering hugs with someone you love. He wouldn’t even call it sparks flying. It’s just, completely and totally, Frank. That’s all it feels like. 

Frank moves, wrapping his arm around him again and bringing Gerard ever so slightly closer. A moment later Gerard pulls away, but he doesn’t go far. He stays right there, face inches from Frank’s and watches, transfixed, as he glances up at him with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Frank asks in a soft voice.

Gerard doesn’t think about his answer, he instead leans in again and captures Frank’s lips. This time it’s not a simple press of their lips together but it remains just as sweet as they ease into a rhythm. He sighs into it and revels in how soft Frank’s lips are, in how much he wishes he’d have done this sooner.

Everything else fades from his mind and all he knows is the happy, in _love_ feeling that’s rising up inside of him.

___________________________________________________

________________________________________________

Mikey stands in the doorway to the living room, clothes basket on his hip and dumbstruck look on his face. Lyn-z is beside him, grinning ear to ear.

On the couch, Gerard and Frank are so caught up in kissing that they haven't even noticed the two of them yet. Mikey isn’t sure if he wants to throw up at the sight of his brother making out with someone- if you could call something so gentle making out at all. Or cry because this is seriously a huge fucking deal for Gerard.

Ultimately, because he’s an asshole, Mikey decides to step into the room and get as close to the couple as he can. He grins and grimaces all at once when he sees how into it the two of them are, how happy Gerard is. It’s _gross_.

But he’s also secretly extremely fucking proud of these two. He has plans to interrogate Frank on what the actual fuck he was thinking, leaving like he did the other day, but right now he knows better than to break up this moment like that.

However, this is another, much more fun, way for him to announce his presence to the couple.

“Fuckin’ took you two long enough,” he calls loudly.

Frank and Gerard both jump like they’ve been electrocuted but burst into laughter once they see that it’s just Mikey. He gets a full hearted middle finger from his brother and a- god i hate you - smirk from Frank, even though he winces in pain as he leans back against the couch.

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Gerard tells him seriously, glaring at him behind the intense blush covering his entire face.

He looks like a _tomato_ and when Mikey informs him of it he’s somehow even more red. Mikey is seriously having the Best Day. 

All the important shit, interrogating Frank and talking to his brother about this, it can wait. Because he hasn’t seen Gerard this happy in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe  
> so uh, surprise?  
> Who guessed it, lemme know if you had any clue haha.
> 
> Also, yes i had that chapter titled planned for Way too freaking long. I like being dramatic, i'm sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please, feel free to yell at me in the comments XD


	12. Weathered Every Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood mention  
> *very brief mentioned/implied sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am so sorry it's been over a month since I've last updated this. I ended up having to take a break from writing for a little while because of the stress/anxiety it was giving me. When it stopped being fun I knew i had to take a step back. But it's been a very good month of relaxing and only writing when I wanted and not because I felt I had to. So yeah, I'm fully back now. There will be three other chapters after this one (and the others will tie into the oneshots that this fic was inspired by. And yes they are technically the "ending" to this fic.)  
> I'm so sorry once again for the crazy wait but i promise the next chapter will be out soon <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Gerard didn’t run away. He _didn’t_.

If anyone asks he’s just…getting some fresh air. In the bathroom. With the door locked.

He doesn't know what went wrong. One second he was asleep peacefully on the couch with Frank, since they’d both drifted off while watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, and the next he was waking up in a blind panic with _his_ face at the forefront of his mind. It’s all he can see now whenever he closes his eyes. His cold, emotionless eyes. It brings back the dread that would settle in Gerard’s stomach and make him unable to move, unable to do or say _anything_. 

He hasn’t had a nightmare this bad in well, in a few months now. And he’s almost a trillion times more calm than he used to be whenever he’d wake up from this shit. He’s not hyperventilating or going into like a complete breakdown or anything. But he’s shaking and his eyes are wet. He can’t tell if he is crying, or if he’s about to start. Mostly he’s just… scared. 

He knows that his ex isn’t here, that he can’t hurt him anymore. Mikey and Lyn-z would kill him before he could try. But that doesn’t stop the fear, the cold way it seeps through him. How he forces his breathing to be quiet so no one can hear him. 

Gerard wishes Mikey were here though. So that must be some form of progress too. But it’s hard to think of progress when he’s like this. 

He ends up staying on the bathroom floor for a long time, between the sink and the wall, as if they can protect him from his own memories, until he hears the birds chirping outside and he knows he has to get up. Mikey will worry if he wakes up and finds Gerard here. 

Thankfully, he’s not as shaky when he stands so he does his best to wipe any evidence of his nightmare away, washing his face with cool water and flushing the toilet so if anyone _is_ awake they won't be suspicious. Once he’s satisfied that no one will be able to tell he’s cried in the bathroom all night, Gerard cracks the door open and peeks out into the hallway. It’s still mostly dark and the entire house is quiet. He might have gotten away with this.

He steps out into the hallway, keeping his footsteps silent and forcing his breathing to be as quiet as well. He makes it to the stairwell when a shadow appears at the bottom. It nearly scares him half to death but then the light switch at the bottom flips on, illuminating the steps. 

Frank stands at the bottom, his hand against the wall and a sleepy look on his face. Awkwardly and trying to look as normal as possible, Gerard comes down the steps and stops in front of Frank.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Frank questions tiredly, concern mixing heavily with the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Um. I just had to use th’ bathroom. Did I wake you?”

Frank just shakes his head. “No, you’re fine. I just, woke up and you were gone and I was… I was worried.”

Gerard’s heart doesn't skip a beat at that, it _doesn’t_.

“Sorry,” he whispers, but then adds. “Do you wanna go back to bed?”

Frank smiles a dopey little grin and nods. And so Gerard wraps his arm around Frank’s waist, supporting him as he lags after only a few steps. He feels bad for worrying him enough that he’d come looking for him, even more so while he’s _hurt_. But Frank doesn’t even seem to mind whatever pain he must be in. He leans his head on Gerard’s shoulder as they walk and murmurs quiet things he can’t make out. 

He almost takes them back to the couch, seeing as that’s where they’d fallen asleep. But then he reasons that Frank is hurt and Gerard is pretty sure he should sleep in a real bed while he heals. Like, it’s probably going to be a ton more comfortable, anyway. And like- easier for him to heal. Right?

The logic makes sense but Gerard also knows that this is him inviting Frank to sleep _in_ hisbed. With Gerard right beside him. And he hasn’t shared a bed with anyone, other than like- his brother whenever he’s having a particularly bad day, since he lived with his ex. And even then, it damn sure wasn't like this.

But, as terrifying as that prospect is, Gerard hardly even hesitates as he all but carries a now mostly asleep Frank down the steps to the basement. He steps over empty food containers and half finished canvases, wincing at every loud noise because he doesn’t want to wake Frank again. 

Somehow, Gerard manages to get him on the bed and under the covers without incident. He almost just lays down on top of the blankets but he soon thinks better of it and crawls underneath the blankets as well. He tries to keep a bit of distance between them, just for safety you know? But Frank throws that out the window because the second Gerard lays down he’s rolling over and curling up against his side. 

“You’re cold,” he mumbles, his face already pressed into Gerard’s shoulder. It seems to be a favorite place of his and Gerard loves it too much to overthink it.

And yeah, he is pretty cold, it's _November_ after all, but he didn’t realize it until Frank began chasing the chill away. Gerard makes a quiet sound of acknowledgement rather than working up the brain power to actually respond and wraps his arm around Frank, careful to not jostle his injuries. There’s no need though, he’s already asleep again, snoring loudly with the corner of his lips twisting into a smile. Gerard, to his own surprise, begins to drift off as well, even when he was certain he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep after his nightmare. And, thankfully, his dreams are refreshingly blank.

______________________________

At first, Frank doesn’t know where he is.

There’s a dull ache in his chest and he’s too tired to really want to wake up. But he is awake. For some reason.

Someone laughs beside him, softly like they’re trying to be quiet. It only serves to make Frank even more confused.

He doesn’t remember going home with anyone last night? Actually, he’s tired enough to where it takes him a moment to remember he isn’t even _in_ Hell right now. It takes longer for Frank to remember Gerard. To remember that his chest hurts because he almost died and he was up and walking earlier- yesterday? Because he’d woken up and Gerard wasn’t there. 

Even so, he’s tensed as he pries his eyes open and glances around to try and figure out where he is. There’s posters on the walls around him, things like monsters and musicians on them. He’s laying down, under quite a few blankets and, most importantly, is not alone in the bed.

Frank cranes his neck enough to look up at the person laying beside him. 

Gerard’s sitting up in the bed, his back against the wall and his phone in his hand. There’s headphones in his ears and he’s smiling at something playing on the screen. He looks… amazing, to say the least. All sleepy and happy and calm. Frank feels himself relax, despite the fact that he just woke up _in_ Gerard’s bed.

A second later Gerard glances over and, finding him awake, pulls out his headphone and sets his phone aside. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “How long ‘ve you been awake?”

The lamp beside the bed is on, bathing Gerard in a warm orange light. Frank can see the reflections of it on his hair, making the tiny fly away strands appear golden. He’s smiling now, as he pulls himself up to sit.

“Not long.”

Gerard frowns, apparently catching on something in his voice. 

“What’s wrong? You look… not upset but just…”

“I’m fine, Gee,” Frank assures him, resting his head on his shoulder and melting a little when Gerard wraps an arm around him in return. 

“I wasn't sure where I was at first. That’s all.”

Gerard hums and uses one hand to run through Frank’s hair, pulling at the tangles gently. He could fall back asleep if he tried and trust him, he’s trying. Who would have thought nearly dying and then coming clean about your past life as an angel would leave him so tired? Sure as hell not him.

“Wake up in a lot ‘a random beds?” Gerard teases, laughing a little at the end.

“Yeah… kinda.”

He makes a quiet oh sound, like he hadn’t expected Frank to say yes. But it’s not like he’s going to lie to him. Sure, he doesn’t exactly date in Hell but Frank is only human. Or well, demon. But you get what he means. He has… instincts or whatever, and sometimes he goes home with someone. No big deal. He hasn’t done it in a while and, honestly, they didn’t mean anything. He’d leave right after, anyway. 

He can’t, however, miss the flash of hurt on Gerard’s face when he glances over to him. Fuck. He’s fucked this up hasn’t he?

Frank sits up completely and runs a hand through his hair as Gerard very purposefully doesn’t look at him. 

“I don’t- I-”

“Frank-” Gerard interrupts. “You don’t have to explain. We barely know each other and-”

“No. No, Gee it’s not like that. I haven't done that in like, a year? Maybe more. Definitely before I met you. And I swear,” He reaches over to take Gerard’s hand, finally getting him to lift his eyes. “I _swear_ that I would never do that to you.”

There’s a pause where he knows Gerard is thinking it through, can see the wheels turning in his head. He gives him all the time he needs because Frank knows now that trust is a very important thing in… in what they have. If Gerard can’t trust him- or vice versa - then there’s no point.

But Frank does trust him, with his life, and after just a few more minutes Gerard nods and smiles.

“Okay. I- I”m sorry for freaking out on you. I just… I didn’t want you to think I was like- forcing you into only talking to me and-”

“Gee,” Frank interrupts softly. He’s beginning to learn the signs of Gerard overthinking things and knows he needs to stop him before he makes himself upset. “It’s okay. I know what you meant and you had every right to know. I promised no more secrets didn’t I?” Gerard gives him a small nod. “Exactly. And besides, I _want_ to talk to you, to hang out with you and hold your hand. I want this.” Gerard’s laugh sounds very close to a sob but he’s leaning over to kiss Frank so fast that he doesn’t have time to do anything else. Instantly, he melts into it and carefully, giving him plenty of time to stop him, wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist. His worry is for nothing though, as Gerard makes a happy sound into his mouth and deepens the kiss. 

Frank might just be a little bit in love with him.

____________________________

“Wait,” Gerard says suddenly, gesturing with the chopstick in his hand. “So they just sent you here to do… _whatever_ so they could investigate you?”

He sounds so disbelieving, like it’s a crime for someone to not trust Frank. It’d almost be funny, except it’s not. It’s not funny because Frank has always been under suspicion, just for existing. Hell tolerates him but he knows they would never turn down a chance to put him under investigation. Honestly, he’s surprised it took them _this_ long.

“Yeah,” Frank answers, shoving a bite of sushi into his mouth to stall for time.

Gerard frowns and sets his chopsticks down on the little plastic plate the restaurant gave them. 

“But, how can they just _do_ that?”

“I’m not one of them,” Frank says quietly. “Not really. They don’t trust me. They were probably waiting on something like this to happen so they could do this, anyway.” “But that’s- that’s so fucked up!”

“Gee,” Mikey intervenes, his expression as neutral as always. Though, Frank can almost detect something similar to Gerard’s horror at the way Frank’s being cast aside like this. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was reassuring that they both seem to care so much.

“I _know_ ,” Gerard coincides with a sigh, as if Mikey had spoken an entire argument rather than just his name. “I know but like- how can they just _do_ that? Believe what some random person said about you? Isn’t there like- a system to go through or something?”

“Yeah, kinda. But the higher ups were told by someone who’s trustworthy, Ray figured out that much at least. So in that case it’s sorta a guilty until proven innocent situation.”

“Bullshit,” Gerard says full heartedly, as if he’s about to walk down to Hell and tell them off himself.

And yeah, Frank might just be a _little_ bit in love with him.

“It is bullshit,” comes Lyn-z’s voice from the doorway. 

She’s holding her own plate of sushi and the bottle of sauce Gerard said Frank just _had_ to try. Frank scoots over so she can sit down beside him, pleasantly surprised when it means he and Gerard are now touching. Gerard offers him a tiny smile and Frank wonders how he got so lucky.

Even with their less than pleasant conversation, Frank wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. Not when Gerard is sitting here with him, dressed in well worn jeans that are adorned with patches and paint. With his hair up in a cute little bun so some of the curlier parts fall down around his face. He’s beautiful and it keeps hitting Frank like a train.

Lyn-z comes over and pours some of the sauce into a little bowl-thing and forces him to take a bite- it’s a weird taste, almost spicy but not at the same time. Frank likes it.

When he glances over to Gee, he finds him smiling softly, something warm in his eyes. Frank feels the flutter in his stomach again and he flips his hand over for Gerard to take. Which he does, his smile growing even brighter.

Lyn-z clears her throat, bringing Frank back to their conversation.

“I know the system is a bit fucked but you could probably prove your innocence if you knew who was spreading the lies. Simply stating that you did nothing wrong won’t be enough.”

Frank sighs and stabs at a piece of raw fish that’s fallen to the side. Earth food is weird. “I know. But I just- I’m not sure who would say shit like that. Or- well it’s more like who _wouldn’t_.”

“You were right earlier when you said it’d have to be someone who’s trusted, who has a lot of power… you’re _sure_ your friend Ray wouldn’t be behind this.”

“No,” Frank says instantly. 

That’s the one thing he knows for sure. Ray has always been there for him. He’s practically family and Frank doesn’t doubt him for a second. 

Lyn-z nods and he can tell that she believes him, but he’s aware that this just makes it harder. There’s a good number of demons who hold power or sway over the council’s decisions. None of them particularly like Frank. Fuck, most of them probably want him dead. So that gives him no leeway in figuring out who might be behind this. 

“Wait,” He says slowly, scrunching his face up as he thinks. “Would- would it be stupid to wonder if it was more than one demon? I mean, none of them like me…”

But Lyn-z shakes her head. 

“No. If more than one person came forward you’d have been killed or banished instantly. This person has power but they also must not have any real proof. The small sliver of doubt is the only reason you were sent on a pointless assignment and not instantly tried and punished.”

That makes Frank’s blood run cold. He knows they’re cruel, Hell’s punishments. He’s watched plenty of them be delivered. But just the thought of wasting away in those horrible little cells, or being chained up in the Halls… it makes his stomach do rolling flips. He wants to puke but he doubts Gerard would be happy if he got half-digested raw fish all over the carpet.

“So then, who would have a personal vendetta against you?”

Frank can’t help but flinch at the unrestricted bluntness of Mikey’s words. He’s right of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t know,” he admits helplessly.

He keeps his head down now, knows not to start shit or go around waving his past around. He learned that lesson the hard way and-

Oh fuck no. 

He _wouldn’t_. 

Shit, fuck he _would_. 

“ _Fuck_.”

“What is it?” Gerard asks carefully, leaning a bit against Frank and giving him a concerned look.

“I- I think I know…”

“That’s great! Who is it? Can you prove that they’re lying?”

Frank’s head is spinning, old memories rising to the surface like he’s all of a sudden being thrust back in time. He’s dizzy with it, sick, and he hates that he didn’t put it together sooner.

He stands in a hurry, hardly noticing his chest protesting his movements. Gerard’s hand reaches out to steady him and when Frank pauses, he stands too. He pulls him into a hug, and Frank can feel how tightly he’s holding him. Like they’re saying goodbye.

“Go,” Gerard whispers into his ear, his voice so carefully calm.

“But-”

Gerard shakes his head and pulls away, placing his hands on Frank’s shoulders and fixing him with a firm look. It’d be convincing if his eyes weren’t tearing up. Frank’s heart breaks at the knowledge that he’s at fault for that.

“Go,” Gerard says again.

This time his voice does waver and if Frank doesn’t leave now, he never will.

“I’ll come back,” Frank tells him, trying desperately to force his words to hold the amount of sincerity he feels in his chest.

He _will_ come back this time. He won’t leave Gerard again. He won’t hurt him.

“I know.”

Frank pulls away first and when he glances over at Mikey, he gives him a wordless nod of approval. 

“Don’t be a dick and forget about us,” Lyn-z tells him seriously.

And, just like that, Frank walks out the door. It’s way too easy, to just leave. 

He tries to ignore how his eyes sting as he reaches out to Ray.

‘Ray?’

He receives a sleepy, wordless sound in response. He feels bad for waking him but at the same time, this is kinda important. If they don’t act fast then it may be already too late.

‘Ray. Dude I need you to pick me up. I figured it out.’

That gets his attention fast. Frank can feel the moment Ray wakes up completely and he doesn’t even reply before the sound of a portal opening cuts through the silence of Gerard’s street. 

Frank wraps his arms around himself as Ray steps through. He looks like he was sleeping hard, his hair a mess and only wearing a t-shirt. 

“You figured it out?” he asks the second he steps onto the sidewalk with Frank.

“Yeah. I- I’m an idiot…”

“Why? Who is it?” Ray presses, concern now dripping into his voice.

“Bob.”

Ray’s eyes go wide and he hurries him through the portal.

_________________________________

_“Hi.”_

_Frank looks up from the book he’s reading. In front of him stands a tall, menacing demon who looks like he could break him in half with one arm. Instantly he shrinks down into the bench he’s sitting on, wishing desperately he hadn’t decided to wait outside the court for Ray to be done with work today. If this demon tries to start something, he’ll be able to tear Frank apart before Ray can even come to save him._

_“Um… hi…” he tries, hoping maybe if he’s polite then the demon will just go away. “You’re Frank, right?”_

_Frank nods, not trusting himself to speak. The demon smiles, almost kindly, and extends a hand towards him._

_“I’ve heard a lot about you, kid. I’m Bob, I work with Ray.”_

_\------------------_

_Frank jumps as his sensitive, healing wings are jostled when an arm wraps around his waist. Pain shoots down his spine and he hisses against the burning sensation._

_“Shit,”the arm’s owner laughs sympathetically. “Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you.”_

_Bob pulls away but stays pretty close. Not that Frank minds. Once the initial shock that a demon other than Ray wanted to be his… friend, he’s grown pretty close to Bob. And so Frank can’t help but blush a little under the soft little smile Bob is giving him right now._

_“ ‘s good,” Frank says, shrugging. “How was the trial?”_

_Bob lets out a long groan and plops down on Ray’s couch beside him, uncaring if all his fancy ceremonial clothes get messed up. Frank laughs in sympathy and does his best to not react when Bob wraps an arm carefully around his shoulders. Though, he probably fails because he can feel his face heating up of its own accord._

_Because Bob is pleasantly warm and Frank, who’s always cold these days- Ray says it’s because he’s not done healing and he needs to give his body time to adjust, whatever that means- leans into the touch. It’s a pleasant few minutes where neither of them really speak. That’s okay though, Frank simply goes back to reading the book Ray brought back for him while Bob starts playing with the hair around his growing horns._

_They’re still pretty small but one day, hopefully, they’ll grow into full size rather than remain tiny like the rest of him. Ray speculates that he’s stopped growing because he Fell so young, that it like- stunted his growth or whatever. Which is stupid but it’s not like there’s anything he can do about it._

_Maybe Ray’s wrong though? Maybe Frank will grow once he’s completely better and his horns will be bigger than even Ray’s. It’s probably a long shot though, seeing as Ray’s never wrong about anything._

_“Hey, Frank?”_

_“Hmm?” he murmurs, looking up from his book but keeping a finger on the paragraph he was on._

_This one is about Hell, explaining the things his classes in Heaven only glanced on. Apparently there’s a lot more here than he’d originally thought._

_“Can I ask you somethin’?”_

_He nods. He’d tell Bob anything. He’s a really good listener, always happy to let Frank rant about how it’s stupid his powers will probably never get any stronger and how his wings ache for days sometimes. The least he can do in return is answer a question._

_“Do you ever miss it?”_

_“Miss what?”_

_Bob leans a little more into him. “Heaven. Bein’ an angel.”_

_Frank’s heart does the familiar stutter that always accompanies thinking about things like that. He knows that he shouldn’t, that if other demons figured out that he missed his life before he’d probably be even more of an outcast. Or worse, punished for it._

_“Yeah,” he answers in a whisper, too afraid to lift his voice. “Sometimes.”_

_“Would you go back? If you could?”_

_He misses the change in Bob’s tone… but in the future he’s going to replay those words over and over in his head and wonder how he could have been so damn naive._

_“Of course.”_

________________________

Ray sits down heavily, letting his head drop to rest in his hands the second Frank finishes talking. 

He knows the shit that Bob pulled back then. Fuck he was the one who fought for Frank in the court afterwards.

But that doesn’t mean that Frank finds this any less painful to talk about. 

“Why-” Ray has to pause and clear his throat when his voice cracks. “Why would he try and get back at you, after all this time?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“No. I- I mean you fuckin’ kicked his ass for the shit he pulled. Why the fuck would he risk the shaky trust the council has for him by accusing you of something like this?”

Again, Frank just shrugs. He isn’t sure. 

All he knows is that the second he figured out that Bob was going straight to the council to tell them what he told him _in confidence_ \- when he realized that he never fucking liked him, that he was just acting interested so he could figure out if Frank was a _threat_ \- that was what led to them trying to kill each other.

The fight itself is blurry, smudged by the anger and hurt that was coursing through him. He’d felt so betrayed, so fucking _pissed_ that he’d fallen for the shit that Bob pulled. He remembers the horrible pain of his horns being ripped from his skull, the way the blood poured down into his eyes and into his mouth. How he just sorta snapped and clawed at whatever was closest.

He didn’t even find out he’d clawed Bob’s eyes out until later. After Ray had found them and carried Frank home, patched him up and saved his life. Again.

“He must have been confident he had proof,” Frank says, sitting down on Ray’s bed with a groan. 

Suddenly, Ray’s eyes grow wide and he looks like he’s just saw a ghost.

“He knows.”

“What? Ray. Ray what the fuck do you mean?”

“ _Gerard_. Bob-I ran into him today and he was coming out of the court all smug. I didn’t think anything of it but- he must know about Gerard.”

Frank’s heart drops to his stomach and everything slows to a stop around him. 

“And that means he has enough proof to put me on trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now we know who was spreading the lies... and why. Bob has no rights.  
> So yeah, let me kknow what you guys think? i know this one was a bit of a filler chapter but i promise the next one will have more of the good stuff <3


	13. You're Not In This Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *eating disorder recovery things, weight gain  
> *blood/gore  
> *panic attacks  
> *mentions of violence  
> *sexism (brief)   
> *homophobia/transphobia (brief)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> so this is technically the last chapter! the next two are epilogues of sorts, except that they do have plot and tie up some loose plot points in this story (i.e bob and frank's trial). The weird thing though, is that the next two chapters are almost completely prewritten. I did them back in October as a two shot for Halloween thing i was doing. They were based on a prompt i recieved from Winterm and I just sorta ran with them! They lead me to write this fic and they are technically the ending. So if you read it then, it is almost exactly the same. I've changed some small details like ages and plot things that wouldn't work after this fic. But yeah. So since they've been written already, they should be both out within a week!! I'll have a long AN at the end of that to talk about this fic haha, so look out for that.  
> Huge thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for betaing this for me and for helping me get the ending and everything sorted out.  
> I hope you all enjoy <3

_“Whoa, shit. Frank-”_

_Ray’s arm wraps around Frank’s shoulder, helping him to finish sitting up all the way as his vision swims. In pain and not sure where he is, Frank tries to keep his eyes open long enough to take in his surroundings. But everything is blurry and all he can make out is the soft color of Ray’s shirt, right by his face since he’s literally holding him up, and the window by his bed. His bed._

_He’s in his home._

_Which is strange because the last thing he remembers is-_

_“NO!”_

_Frank doesn’t even register that he’s shouted it, that he’s fighting against Ray’s grip and screaming. All he knows is that Bob is a fucking evil, sadistic fucking piece of shit and he- he-_

_“He took them!” he screams, voice hoarse and his arms flailing._

_He can feel the pain now, the horrible way his enture fucking skull trhobs along withhis heartbeat, wild and erratic._

_“Frank.”_

_Ray’s voice is too calm. Shouldn’t he be freaking out? Bob just took the only fucking thing that proved Frank is a demon. He_ took _them. His horns are fucking_ gone _and- and he- he-_

_“Frank,” Ray says again, his tone almost scolding._

_But then he must use some form of magic because Frank feels a wave of calm wash over him. It feels almost artificial, as if it weren't his own, but it does take the sharp edge off his panic._

_He takes a breath, stops struggling, and slumps against Ray as if his bones have turned to mud. There’s no point is there? His horns have been taken and they won’t be coming back. He’s nothing now. Not a demon and certainly not an angel._

_“Frank, open your eyes. Look at me.”_

_He’s compelled to do so, by Ray’s magic and by the very clear shake in his voice._

_When he opens his eyes, everything is blurry and he only realizes he’s crying when Ray uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at the tears streaming down his face. His expression is heartbreakingly sad, but comforting somehow at the same time and Frank has to close his eyes again as a fresh wave of pain from what he’s lost washes over him._

_How can he call himself a demon now? He won’t pass as one, that’s for sure. Not with his size and most definitely not without his powers. Not that he ever really flew under the radar anyway. He doesn’t belong here, never has._

_“It’s okay,” Ray almost coos._

_Frank would, and probably should, be offended or feel patronized by the fragile way Ray is treating him. But he doesn’t. All he can do is lean against Ray and let his strength keep him from being taken under by this. As stupid as it feels, he knows he’d feel a lot worse if Ray_ weren’t _here._

_“It’s not,” Frank chokes out, his voice nearly as weak as he feels._

_Ray sighs and pulls back, and Frank fights the urge to just pitch forward and let him catch him. His head already feels light enough that he’s probably going to fall over soon anyway. Everything just feels like too much, even just sitting here._

_“It will be,” Ray asserts, far more sure sounding than he should be._

_“How?”_

_Frank doesn’t mean to argue but, really? How is any of this going to be okay? Does Ray not realize what’s just happened? What he’s just lost?_

_“They’ll grow back. You’ll get better. It’ll just take time.”_

_That makes Frank pause, his mind going at full speed at the implication that this- this isn’t permanent. Bob didn’t strip him of the one thing that actually made him a demon?_

_“They- they’ll…?”_

_Ray frowns. “Yeah. They’ll grow back I- fuck, Frank did you think they_ wouldn’t _?”_

_He can only nod sheepishly. So he overreacted?_

_Though, it doesn’t feel like an overreaction when he does in fact nearly pass out again a second later. Ray catches him just like he thought he would and lowers him back against the pillows._

_“Easy, Frank,” he soothes, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes so Frank doesn’t have to. “No, they’re not gone forever. Only a few demons know how to do it that way. Think of it as- sorta like pulling a weed. You can yank on it and pull out the stem, but unless you dig in and get the root too, it will still grow back. Your horns are the same way. And it’s nearly impossible to survive them being taken for good. It rips out chunks of your skull and uh- let's just say it’s not pretty.”_

_“But he still took them…”_

_Frank knows he’s grasping at bitter little straws but he thinks it's pretty fucking justified, all things considered. It's not just that his horns have been ripped out and broken. His heart physically hurts just thinking about how much he had been falling for Bob. How blind he’d been to his true intentions. He had never loved Frank. He was only playing him, making Frank get attached so he could get all the dirt on the Fallen that was plaguing Hell._

_Fuck. Bob never even_ liked _him. And that somehow hurts worse than anything else._

_Ray gives him a sympathetic smile, as if he knows what Frank means by that._

_“He did. You nearly died Frank. Even though he didn’t get the uh- the roots he did take a good chunk out of you. You’re lucky to have survived.”_

_“Don’t feel lucky,” Frank mutters darkly._

_He thinks he’s allowed to be bitter and upset. He just had his fucking heart broken by the guy he thought he loved. The same guy who decided to rip out the bones connected to his skull. Yeah, Frank has the right to be pissed and sad._

_“I know,” Ray says, placing a hand on his knee. “But hey, you fucked him up too. Last I heard the docs couldn’t fix him and they were asking for my help. I told the head doctor exactly where Bob could shove it.”_

_“Wait- wait I hurt him?”_

_It seems unlikely. Seeing as Frank is tiny and not very strong. Him leaving any lasting damage on a demon of Bob’s power isn’t something he would consider himself capable of._

_Ray huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I’d say you did.”_

_“What’d… what’d I do?” Frank asks slowly, something akin to fear beginning to make itself known._

_He was taught that hurting others was wrong, a sin. And yeah, being kind to everyone is sort of what brought him into this entire situation in the first place, but he still doesn’t like the thought of purposefully hurting another person._

_“You clawed out his eyes, Frank. He’s blind now.” Ray laughs that same huffing chuckle as before. “I could probably heal him but there’s no fucking way I’m doing anything for him, especially after what he did to you.”_

_That takes Frank back, the actual cruelness in Ray’s voice, like Bob got what he deserved. For as long as he’s known him, Ray has always been kind and caring. Especially towards Frank. But there’s something in his eyes that scares Frank a little, something that almost looks like he’s enjoying the thought of Bob suffering like this._

_And Frank wouldn’t exactly say he wishes Bob a long and happy life or whatever, but_ still _._

_“He deserved it, Frank,” Ray adds, as if reading his thoughts. “He literally lied to you, tried to get you in trouble, and then proceeded to try and kill you. There’s not much he could do to come back from that. If you hadn’t fought back you would have died.”_

_He can only nod. He knows Ray’s telling the truth, even if it feels wrong._

_Frank looks down at his hands. He doesn’t know why he was expecting them to be covered in blood, with bits of Bob’s flesh or whatever embedded under his nails. But his hands are clean, a little scrapped up and definitely paler than usual, but clean._

_His head hurts worse now, throbbing along with his heartbeat and strong enough that he’s seeing little flashes of light._

_“Okay,” Ray’s voice says, gentle once again as if he had never adopted that cruel edge. “Lay back down. We can talk about this later. You need to rest.”_

_Frank complies, only because he’s too drained to do much else. Though he does manage to tilt his head in Ray’s direction, bringing fresh waves of burning pain through his body._

_“Lights,” he mutters, hoping Ray will understand what he means._

_“Lights? Frank there aren’t any lights on in here.”_

_He shakes his head as much as he can and waves his hand in front of his face, slightly concerned now that the little flashes are taking up more of his vision. “Lights.”_

_“Oh. Oh fuck-”_

_And then Ray’s hands go to his temples, warmth blooming instantly from his touch as he heals him._

_“Why didn’t you tell me earlier,” he scolds halfheartedly, his face growing more clear as Frank feels his magic working in him._

_“Didn’t know…”_

_“You got a chunk of your skull ripped out, dumbass. I can’t heal it all the way but seeing lights means you’re fucking bleeding again.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“It’s alright,” Ray assures him, looking down to give him a small smile. “I just wish you’d told me sooner.”_

_A fresh wave of his healing washes over Frank, stronger than the others. The pain disappears for a moment and he sags back against the sheets in relief._

_“Sorry.”_

_Ray just shushes him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”_

_“What for?”_

_“If you want me to heal him I will,” Ray offers instead, nothing but sincerity in his tone now. “I didn’t realize it was… gonna bother you. After what he did I don’t think anyone would blame you for letting him suffer…”_

_“But you hate him.”_

_“I do. And not just for what he did to you. He’s been a dick for as long as I’ve known him. But I will heal him if you believe it’s the right thing to do.”_

_Frank hesitates. He can remember Bob holding him down, his knee pressing so hard into his chest that he couldn't breathe. How he wrapped his hand around Frank’s horns and just tore them out. One at a time. Frank could feel the skin and bone giving away, the agony that felt as if it was consuming him. He doesn’t remember screaming, but he must have. It was the worst pain he’s ever felt… or, well. Close to it. Falling was infinitely worse but this had been so close to that, that for a moment he thought it was happening again. The thought terrifies him, of losing all of himself again and having to start back at square one._

_And yet. He remembers what his teachers used to tell him. About how every living thing should be shown kindness. That they all have feelings and emotions that are deserving of respect. He knows now that the compassion they believed in as conditional but the words stand out to him anyway. He is supposed to be kind to everyone, no matter if they’re hurtful to him. It’s the right thing to do._

_“Heal him? Please…”_

_______________________

“What’re we gonna do?” Frank asks, leaning back against Ray’s bed and throwing his arms over his head with a sigh. 

“I dunno. Not much we can do other than go through the trial. Maybe we can like- convince them you didn’t technically break any rules.”

Frank scoffs. “Yeah, like they’d believe me.”

“They will if we prove that you haven't.”

“But I did,” Frank says, confused. “I talked to a human and I- I have feelings for him. That’s a pretty big no-no.”

Ray’s expression falls and he looks away, staring out the window by the bed for a long moment. 

“If you cut ties with the human we may be able to win. You could argue that you were only acting close to him so you’d have a place to sleep and eat. Since they didn’t provide you with details on how to influence your way into hotels, that argument should hold up.”

Frank opens his mouth, horrified at the thought of _using_ Gerard like that. Like he was just something at his disposal. It’s horrible and he can’t believe Ray would even _suggest_ lying about doing something like that. As if Gerard meant absolutely nothing.

“You fucking _told_ me to go back to him,” Frank growls, more angry than he should be as he sits up sharply. “I was going to leave him alone, because what you just said is exactly what every other demon would do to him. But _you_ told me I should give it another fucking chance. What the _fuck_ Ray? How could you even suggest that?”

“Frank-”

“No. I’m serious. You know me. Do you seriously believe that fucking anyone in that court will belive that I took advantage of a human like that?”

“Well you’re going to have to _make_ it believable,” Ray shouts, snapping his head in Frank’s direction.

“I-”

But Ray cuts him off. 

“Look, we only have two options here. Convince the council that you only had Hell’s best interests in mind or _don’t_ and deal with whatever fucked up punishment they give you. Those are the only options, Frank. But for even a _chance_ of you winning you have to cut ties with the human. If they have any proof that you’re seeing him they will end the trial right then and lock you up for ever. And then, _then_ they will find Gerard and make you _watch_ as he suffers.”

Frank stands up abruptly, his eyes wet and his chest way too tight. He takes a step back, away from Ray. Away from the harshness that’s pulling at his best friends features. It feels wrong, like this isn’t Ray at all.

But it is. Frank just hasn’t seen it in a while. He’d forgotten how terrifying it is, how fucking scary it is to see someone who’s usually so kind just let this kind of things out like they’re nothing.

“Frank,” Ray tries, softening his face and looking genuinely apologetic.

It hits Frank then, how little he really knows. 

He was told in Heaven that everyone was loved and worthy of compassion. But he learned the hard way that demons weren’t viewed as worthy of that kindness, neither were angels who sympathized with them. The people that told him since he was born that God was amazing and kind, that he loved all of his creations and that it was an _honor_ for Frank to have been born in a position to serve Him. Those people stood by as he was cast out from Heaven, as his grace burned up inside of him. He had screamed for help. He remembers that part clearly. But no angel helped him.

A demon did. Ray did. 

And Frank had thought, stupidly, that maybe demons weren’t as bad as the angels said they were. Maybe they were just misunderstood. Ray seemed to be. He was so different than everything Frank expected a demon to act like. 

Ray’s kind and he obviously cares about Frank, he wouldn't be here with him if he didn't. He could have simply left after he saved Frank’s life, after he kept him alive long enough for his newly created demon soul to latch onto his broken body. But he stayed. He stayed and became Frank’s best and only friend.

And yet, here he is. Telling Frank that he has two choices. He can break Gerard’s heart- and he’s _certain_ that it would cut Gerard’s heart clean in two. He’s seen first hand how fragile the human’s heart is. He knows why he keeps it so hidden and tries so hard to protect it. Gerard’s been broken way too many times. And Frank doesn’t know if he’d survive another.

And, fuck. He will be _damned_ if he causes Gerard anymore harm. He cares about him too much. He couldn’t do it, wouldn’t be able to just walk into his house and tell him he never wants to see him again. 

Firstly, Mikey would probably break his fucking neck the second the words are out of his mouth. Mikey’s forgiven him for the ghoul attack but Frank knows that if he hurts Gerard at all that his brother will not hesitate to unleash that tenfold onto him. 

But, and this is the part that makes Frank hate that Ray is right. If he _doesn’t_ break up with Gerard, then Hell will find him. And if they find Gerard they _will_ tourture him, right in front of Frank just like Ray warned. There will be nothing he can do to stop it. It’d be his fault.

“No,” Frank growls, stepping forward towards Ray again, anger rising up inside of him like Hellfire. “I _won’t_ make that decision. I won’t choose between breaking his heart or letting him die here in Hell. It’s a stupid fucking choice and I fucking refuse!”

Ray sighs but doesn’t argue. He looks tired, as if he’d known Frank would be this stubborn but had to try anyway.

“Then what?” he asks weakly. “There’s no way you can win if they see you with him.”

“I’ll lie.”

“Frank, that’s-”

“I’ll say what you said earlier,” Frank says, cutting him off. “That I’m using him for a place to stay up there and I’m influencing him into liking me just for the kicks. They’re gonna make me get back on top of the assignments anyway, so they'll have no reason to suspect him.”

“They will when Bob argues that it’s not an influence.”

“He won’t.”

Ray gives him a tired look. “Why not? That’s his main argument.”

“That’s his like, winning thing. He’ll use everything else first, any other evidence he has to prove to them I’m not to be trusted. If we can just prove him wrong on everything else then, if and when he tries to pull out his trump card of me liking Gee, it’ll just look like a desperate attempt to win.”

“Frank…”

“I know,” Frank says diplomatically, even though all he wants to do is scream and rush back to Gerard so he can keep him safe. “I _know_ it’s a long shot. But I’m not leaving Gerard. This is our only option.”

Ray takes a moment, staring down at his hands and lost in thought. Frank waits him out. He’s said what he wanted to say and if Ray won’t help him then… then he’ll just do this himself. 

“Okay,” he says at last, nodding. “Okay.”

Frank smiles, almost too big, and sits back down beside Ray. 

“Thank you.”

Ray runs a hand through his hair and when Frank glances over he can’t help but think how old he looks right now. There’s dark lines under his eyes and his hands shake ever so slightly. He wonders how little sleep Ray’s been getting, how much magic he’s been using while tirelessly trying to help Frank solve all of this mess.

He feels bad, truthfully. Yeah, Ray’s a demon and yeah he can be scary. But as he wraps an arm around Frank’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug, he knows that Ray really does care. He’s a good person and Frank is lucky to have him.

_____________________________________

Gerard zips up his jacket and takes a quick glance in the mirror. 

He’s dressed warmly, because it’s November and he gets cold very easily. So he’s wearing a t-shirt (with Jack Skellington on it because, yes) with a hoodie over top and then a thick leather jacket over that. With the heating on inside it’s sorta toasty but he knows the layers will be a lifesaver once he’s outside in the cold. 

Though, the long pastel skirt he’s wearing doesn’t really keep in much heat on his legs. He has a pair of shorts on underneath it but it’s honestly worth his legs being cold. He misses being able to wear skirts all the time, just for the hell of it. Because they make him feel pretty and soft? Somehow. 

But he actually has a plan for today, surprisingly. Shocker, he knows. Local hermit actually has plans, tell all the papers.

But, you see, Frank has been gone for almost two days now and, rather than let himself wallow around in the basement being all miserable like he wants, he’s tried to keep himself relatively busy. He worked this morning, even though he kept finding himself glancing out the back door in fear of another ghoul sneaking up on him. And last night he started a new project on a giant canvas he bought months ago and never got around to actually painting on. But, tonight, he’s going shopping.

He got the idea because this morning, as he was getting ready for work, he was pulling up his jeans and well… they wouldn't button up. They were too small. And there had been that moment of panic, where his stomach dropped and he got very afraid. But, somehow, he shook himself out of it. He tried the jeans again, just to see, and when he saw that they were in fact just a bit too small, decided he was going to be a normal person and go clothes shopping after work. 

The tiny voice and panic in the back of his head is still there but he’s ignoring them both. He's fine. It’s only logical that he’s going to gain weight. He’s eating regularly now and he’s eating things he enjoys. In fact, it’s a _good_ thing that he’s putting some weight back on. Logically he knows he was unhealthily skinny this time last year.

He keeps reminding himself of those things, of the logic and how this is a _good_ thing, as he begins walking up the steps. 

Once at the top however, Gerard freezes. He can hear the TV on, playing some sports channel that only his father ever watches. The panic returns, making the tips of his fingers go numb and his breath hitch.

His father will almost certainly have something to say about what he’s wearing and it won’t be good. He’s not sure if he’s confident enough in this to deal with his father saying something, not right now. If he makes fun of him Gerard very well might just cry right in front of him. 

He steels himself anyway, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he dresses this way because it makes him comfortable. It’s part of him and if people like his father have a problem with it then it’s their problem, not his.

Gerard opens the door slowly and his father’s head turns in his direction. Fuck.

Wordlessly he waves and tries to beeline his way to the kitchen, but his father stands up and starts walking towards him. Cursing in his head, Gerard turns and offers a smile.

“Evening Dad.”

He hums. “You doin’ some weird thing for Mikey’s class again?”

Gerard winces but nods, accepting the excuse gladly. It’s what he told his father the last time he caught him in a skirt, back when he was in college and Mikey had just started school. They’d only had a semester together before Gerrard dropped out. He misses it sometimes. Maybe one day he could go back…

“Mmmh. I never understand why I pay for him to go learn shit like this. What man needs to know about skirts anyway?” His father huffs out a laugh. “ ‘sept for lookin’ up them am I right?” Gerard feels sick to his stomach and all he can do is nod. 

Thankfully, his father seems happy with their short interaction and makes his way back to the couch, sitting down with a loud sigh. Gerard is shaking as he goes into the kitchen but, of course, he runs into his mom at the same time.

“Gee?”

He tries for a smile. He doesn’t want her to worry.

“Evening mom. How was work?”

She gives him a look, probably seeing right through him. “It was okay. Are you alright? You look a little spooked.”

“Yeah. I just- it’s nothing. I’m good.”

He gets another look, this time full of disbelief in the way only moms can call you out on your bullshit. But she lets it slide.

“Well, I was just gonna ask if this was yours or Mikey’s.”

She holds out Frank’s jacket, now clean and mended of the large gashes in it from the attack. It’s strange to see it when Frank isn’t wearing it. Because now it’s obvious that it’s way too big on him. Frank’s tiny and this jacket is clearly made for someone with broad shoulders. Gerard wonders if it was something he stole, or if maybe someone like Ray gave it to Frank. 

“Oh I- it um. It’s not ours but I- I had a friend over and he must have left it.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh? What’s this friend’s name? Do I know him?”

Gerard panics a bit as she thankfully sets the jacket on the table and turns to rummage through the fridge. Does he tell her that Frank is a friend from work? Or that he’s Gerard’s… boyfriend. Fuck are they even dating though? Neither of them have asked eachother out. But they’ve kissed and like- Frank does seem to like him. Like a lot. And Gerard likes _him_ so-

“Gee, honey.” Gerard blinks and his mother is in front of him, her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He swallows hard but shakes his head.

“He’s my- um well we haven't put a label on it but um- we’ve kissed and he’s really nice to me. Mikey likes him too and- and I really like him. Like, _like_ , like him, mom.”

Her smile is so wide that Gerard is pretty sure she already knew the answer to her question before he even opened his mouth. But her joy is so genuine that he can’t even bring himself to feel all that embarrassed, even when his face does feel like it’s on fire.

“Well if Mikey approves of him then I know he must be good for you. Does this mystery man have a name?”

“Frank,” Gerard says, smiling. 

“Frank. Hmm, a good name. Makes him sound older. Is he older?”

Gerard giggles and shakes his head. “No. He’s about Mikey’s age but he’s really sweet and- and I kinda can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“You should invite him over for dinner sometime.”

“Yeah… I might.”

He turns to leave but his mom squeezes his shoulder. “And honey? You look really pretty in the skirt. It’s good to see you wearing them again.”

And if Gerard hugs her and starts crying just a little, well that’s no one’s business but his.

_______________________________

Gerard plops down beside Mikey on the floor.

His brother has all his school things spread out around him in a sort of circle. There’s at least three textbooks open and a crapton of random sheets of paper with notes scribbled all over them. Mikey’s laptop is in his lap and every now and then he’ll type something furiously into it before picking up another book and squinting at it.

“Mikey,” he whines, lifting his arms behind his head and huffing dramatically. “You’ve been studying your ass off for _weeks_.”

He gets a non communal grunt in return and the sound of Mikey typing away at mock speed. 

“Dude,” he says seriously this time, sitting up and putting his hand over his brother’s to effectively stop him from typing for a second. “You need to take a break before your fingers fall off.”

Mikey looks down at his laptop and then back up at Gerard. His hand twitches like it doesn’t know what to do now that it’s no longer typing.

“Finals are in two weeks.”

“I know. But you’ve literally stayed ahead on all of your studying and shit. And you finished your final project last week. You _need_ to take a break.”

Mikey looks like he’s about to argue as his eyes dart back down to his laptop. But then they both watch the screen light up saying the battery has died and that it’s powering off and Gerard knows he’s won.

He tugs on Mikey’s sleeve to get him to stand up and watches, amused, as he stretches out all the soreness that’s bound to have come from sitting there for however long he’s been sitting on the floor.

“Get your hoodie,” Gerard tells him, passing over his mug of coffee without thought. “I wanna go out and I’m dragging you with me.”

Mikey squints at him, the bastard, and takes a very large gulp of Gerard’s coffee.

“ _You_ want to go out? After you’ve worked today.”

“Yep. It’s a thing normal people do. Go places after work. Do fun things.”

That earns him a snort as Mikey drags his hoodie over his head. It was the one they gave to Frank his first night here and it makes Gerard’s heart do a pleasant little stutter.

“And what fun things do you wanna do?” Mikey asks incredulously, a smile in his voice.

“Shopping. I um…”

At this Gerard does actually falter. The little voice in his head makes him want to say he’s gotten fat and he needs to get a larger size because he can’t fit into his old jeans anymore. But saying that would be, one incorrect and two would lead to Mikey probably worrying. So he pauses and tries to think of a positive, or at least neutral way to say he’s outgrown his pants. 

“Gee?”

Shit. He’s taken too long.

“Just shopping,” He says slowly, as Mikey’s frown deepens. “I um, need some new jeans and uh- yeah. I just need new ones.”

Mikey doesn’t push but Gerard knows that he understands what he wasn’t able to say out loud because his smile becomes much less teasing and more genuine. He almost looks proud. 

“Cool. I need some pens ‘n shit too so we can get those while we’re out.”

“Oh,” Gerard says suddenly. “Can you help me pick out something for Frank too?”

“Something for Frank?”

“Yeah. I uh…” He’s blushing again, he’s sure of it. “A present, for Christmas. I wanna get it now just in case he only comes by once between then and now.”

“Of course, Gee. We’ll find him something he’ll love.”

___________________________________

The portal spits him out right in Gerard’s room. 

Frank stumbles through, out of breath and exhausted but so, so fucking happy to be here. He’s been working his ass off this past week, doing as many assignments as he can and helping Ray put together his defense for the trial. The trial that starts in the morning.

To say he’s terrified is an understatement but all of that feels overshadowed by the pure fucking happiness that fills him the second Gerard notices him standing there. He chucks his paintbrush into a nearby cup and tackles Frank so fast that he nearly loses his balance.

He’s all at once surrounded by Gerard, the sweet smell of his soap, the weight of him leaning against him, the tightness of his arms around Frank’s shoulders. The sound of him laughing in his ear and going on about how much he missed him. 

He takes in everything about him. How his hair is falling down gently around his face, the teal slowly fading out. The warm looking sweater he’s wearing and the cute baby blue skirt that falls just below his knees. Gerard looks _good_ , in a happy, healthy sort of way. Almost like a whole other person than the barista panicking behind the counter that he was when Frank first saw him. But he’s also still the exact same. Still Gerard, nerdy and adorable and so fucking sweet that Frank just wants to hold him and never let go.

Frank thoughts are in a blur until Gerard pulls back and crashes their mouths together. It’s nothing sweet, not like before. This is a hello, god I’ve missed you please don’t leave again sort of kiss. It’s intense and heavy and Frank is panting by the time Gerard finally pulls away. But they’re both smiling.

“Fuck I missed you,” Gerard whispers, his breath close enough for Frank to feel as it hits his cheek. 

“I'm sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay. You came back.”

Gerard’s voice sounds weak, like he almost didn’t believe that Frank would. And that breaks his heart, especially because Ray wanted him to leave Gerard forever. He could never leave, could never give this up. Not with Gerard right here, happy and safe. Everything else, the trial, Bob, doing these stupid fucking assignments, it’s worth it. It’s worth it if he gets to spend moments like this with Gerard.

“I promised, didn’t I?”he teases, smirking, but no less serious.

Gerard laughs and pulls him in for another kiss, this one just as hungry, as mind stopping. They end up on the bed, Frank’s head on Gerard’s chest as he plays with his hair. Frank feels kiss drunk, a feeling he’s never really felt before but recognizes it from those cheesy books Ray sometimes has on his shelves. He wonders what he did to deserve this. To deserve someone like Gerard.

“They’re putting me on trial,” Frank murmurs, effectively breaking the moment they’d been sharing.

But he has to tell Gerard what’s going on. He promised he wouldn’t keep anything from him anymore. And this is sort of a big thing.

“Do you think you can win?” he asks seriously, his tone very carefully neutral. 

Frank can only shrug. “It’s gonna be hard. But I think I can. I didn’t start actually breaking rules until I met you, which is after Bob went to them claiming I was a traitor. So if we can prove he was just making up things to get me in trouble maybe we can get away with the other stuff.”

“The other stuff? You mean me?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard shifts and Frank looks up at him, smiling at how his face looks upside down. He smiles too and leans down to kiss his nose. 

“Am I getting you in trouble now?”

“Definitely,” Frank teases, but quickly sobers. “I am having to lie to them though. I’m gonna tell the court that the only reason I was hanging out with you is because I influenced you into thinking you liked me, and that I was using you to have a place to stay while I was here.”

“Oh…”

“I know it sounds fucked up,” He amends quickly. “I hate the thought of saying that almost as much as the idea of me actually doing something like that. But it was my only choice, Gee.”

“How do I know you didn’t influence me?” Gerard asks, his voice distant.

He’s staring off into space and Frank can practically see all the different directions his thoughts are going. Does he actually think Frank would do something like that? Take advantage of someone? 

“ _Gee-_ ”

He blinks and then locks eyes with Frank. “I’m serious. How do I know you didn’t?”

Frank sits up so fast that he nearly knocks his head against Gerard’s. It hurts that he would think he was capable of something like that, but at the same time Frank understands where he’s coming from. 

“I can’t influence,” He admits. “It's one of the powers I just never got. But Ray didn’t even know I couldn’t until a few weeks ago. So the court doesn’t know that I wouldn’t be able to put my influence on you. That’s the only reason I’m using that excuse. Gee,” He takes Gerard’s hand. “But even if I _could_ , I would never do something like that to you. I like you a lot and I want to be with you. But if you don’t feel the same, for any reason, you’re not stuck here. You can leave at any time.”

This time, when Gerard smiles it’s real, like the sun breaking on a cloudy day. Frank can see the visible relief in his eyes, as if Frank has just given him the world.

“I love you,” he whispers, as if it were said any louder Hell would hear them. 

And Frank doesn’t know if Hell _can_ hear them or if Bob is watching but he doesn't _care_. He leans over and captures Gerard’s lips again. Gerard makes a quiet, surprised sound but kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. 

Frank could stay like this forever, all snuggled up in Gerard’s bed. With the two of them happy and safe, at least for this moment. It’s stupid and probably cliche, but its almost as if nothing else matters but the two of them. Bob doesn’t matter. Even Frank’s fear of what might happen to Gerard should he lose the trial… while certainly still there, is muted and distant. Almost enough for him to forget.

Because Gerard _loves_ him! He looked at Frank, a shitty excuse of a demon no matter who you ask, and _actually_ fell in love with him. It’s insane and Frank would think it wasn’t real, except he can feel it too. How much he loves Gerard. And if Gerard loves him half as much then… well, _fuck._ Nothing else matters. Hell can fuck right the fuck off and Bob can choke for all Frank cares.

“I love you too,” he says, like a promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally said it! AH i was so excited to have them say i love you, you guys have no idea <3  
> So yeah, a little bit more into Frank's backstory. He's too kind for his own good sometimes.   
> Mikey just, deserves the world.   
> and Frank finally saw gee in a skirt! I was gonna make that a bigger moment. But it doesn't really need to be, you know? It's still gerard and Frank knows that, i think.   
> But, i did want to explain a bit about horns. Better late than never right? haha.   
> Basically, for angels their halos hold their grace. So, like when Frank fell, his grace was burned up and his halo became a tattoo on his body. He no longer has grace and his body had to essentially generate demonic energy to make up for it. The same is sort of true for demons. If they loose their horns, completely, if it doesn't kill them they will become weaker and essentially be a little less of a demon. If that makes any sense? if not feel free to ask me about it and i'll do my best to explain a little better! <3
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I'll see you in a little less than a week! <3


	14. Epilogue part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *Mild blood/burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone!  
> god i can't believe this is the second to last chapter. It feels like ive been doing this fic for both an eternity and a day. This chapter was originally gonna be verbatim from the original oneshots. But i realized that ive changed the characters and everything so much that it doesn't even fit anymore. So i kept everything plot wise, the same but rewrote it to fit out characters. And yes, I cried. What of it?  
> As always a very big thank you to i-like-to-wander-around-here for all of her help with everything. I really couldn't' do it without her and this fic exists largely because of her <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Frank _thought_ he was ready. He thought it was going to be okay, how could it not?

But, as he watches Bob recount things to the court that _no one_ should know, Frank realizes that he’s been watching him for a long time. How else would Bob know about all the times Ray ended up covering for him whenever he did something stupid and couldn’t work. 

He had been aware at the time, of how thin the line he walks is. He has to earn his life here, earn it by proving his loyalty and by doing his job, serving Hell gladly. And sure, he was a bit reckless with it, taking days off to just wander around because he hated how suffocating the courts are.However, he never did it with the intention of disrespect. 

But that’s Bob’s argument. His eyes are cold and angry, gesturing wildly behind him to where Frank kneels. 

“We have kept him on long a leash,” Bob nearly growls, talking about him as if he isn’t here. “He’s been allowed too much freedom and because of that he lacks the basic respect of our system that even _newborn_ demons have.”

Frank wants to spit back that he hasn’t gotten _any_ freedom. Hasn’t been allowed to roam too far from Ray. He can’t go to Earth without someone else’s permission, can’t even be in the court unless he’s working. Or, in this case, on trial. But, in a heroic act of self restraint, Frank keeps his mouth shut.

“And,” Bob continues, sounding disgusted just from talking about Frank. “After you, Sir, graciously sent him on assignments while his case was considered, Frank _proceeded_ to ignore our laws from the very moment he stepped foot there.”

Ray’s mind presses against Frank’s, a warning for him to not speak up like he’s seconds away from doing. But Frank is dying to jump up and show Bob just how disloyal he can really be. It’d probably get him killed but he has never wanted to claw out someone's _other eye_ as much as he wants to right now.

Because Bob has better information than they’d thought and, to make it worse, he knows how to word it just right. To make Frank look like an ungrateful, unsupervised threat to the security of Hell. And it’s _infuriating_. 

His hands shake, folded in his lap like he’s the _most perfect demon_ as he kneels here. But inside, his anger, his frustration is building. Because he can't _do_ anything. They have no argument against half the shit Bob is telling since, technically, it is true. Yeah, Frank was in contact with Ray after he went to Earth when he shouldn’t have been. Sure, he didn’t take the assignments seriously and eventually stopped doing them all together. Though _that_ had been because Hell sent literal fucking ghouls after him and they nearly killed him. But Bob won’t mention that. He’ll just keep going on about all the chances Hell has given him and how he’s shown time and time again that he doesn’t care.

The only reason, and Frank does mean the _only_ reason, he hasn’t said fuck it and lunged at Bob before he could spout more twisted truths, is because it would only give him the incentive to bring up Gerard. Which, by some miracle, isn’t something that’s come up yet.

And Frank is okay with that. This trial is going downhill fast, too fast, and as pissed as he is, he knows that there’s nothing he can do once the verdict is given. The Devil sits on his throne, the smaller one- in comparison to his massive throne he sits in in the Halls- actually interested for once. He hangs on Bob’s words, glancing down at Frank as if he’s something gross that he nearly stepped in on the sidewalk. 

But that's okay. Because even if Frank Loses this, if he can keep Gerard away from all of this, then he will gladly take whatever punishment Hell doles out for him. _Gladly_.

“And,” Bob adds, at last turning to face Frank. He smirks, striding over to where he kneels and giving him a long look as if he’s savoring this. “He’s become romantically involved with a human.”

Frank’s eyes go wide and he feels his stomach drop painfully. Gasps are heard around the court and Ray’s panic is so strong that Frank can feel it echoed alongside his own. He’s going to be sick but all he can do is whipped out a choked, 

“ _Why_?”

Bob was _winning_ , why would he- why would he add _more_. What’s the point of making this even worse? Cruelty? Does he enjoy this, watching Frank have everything he’s worked for stripped away right in front of him. 

Bob just smiles. “Why not?”

Frank hears Ray step forward, a stumbling hurriedness that feels so foreign coming from him. 

“Sir, if I may offer a counter-”

“There is no need,” He interrupts, voice completely devoid of any emotion. “I have made my decision.”

No...

There’s supposed to be a judge vote first, where people who _know_ Ray would be able to vote on Frank’s fate. That was the only chance he had left, banking off of the other judge’s trust in Ray.

“Frank,” He commands.

Slowly, Frank lifts his head. He doesn’t look at Bob, doesn’t answer Ray’s desperate pressure against his mind. The Devil has an almost amused look on His face, as if he’s enjoying this very much.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Fallen?”

He spits the word like it’s venom, like Frank is worse than nothing. And yet, His words are nothing but show. There isn’t anything Frank could say would change his fate and he only hopes that someone, something, out there will be merciful enough for Gerard to not be pulled into this. 

“Sir, I apologize for interrupting. However there is vital information regarding Bob that I feel the court needs to hear..”

The Devil’s eyes flick to somewhere behind Frank, where Ray must be standing. He scowls, as if Ray were a particularly annoying gnat and it makes Frank shiver. He doesn’t want to drag Ray down with him. Not after everything he’s done for him, everything he’s continuing to do for him. Ray’s an _idiot_ for interrupting but, _god_ what would Frank do without him. 

“Go on,” He mutters darkly. “It had better be good.”

With the threat left hanging, Frank tenses as Ray’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. There’s a pause and then he’s moving Frank’s hair to the side, revealing his short, stubby horns.

“Bob argues that Frank cannot be trusted because he has no loyalty to Hell,” Ray begins smoothly, falling back into his role as a judge almost seamlessly. “And yet, as an angel, living in God’s perfect paradise, Frank chose to give all of that up in order to help a demon who he didn’t know. He Fell and, by definition, that means he is a demon. Is that not loyalty then? He rejected God’s laws while standing on Heavenly soil. And, further, since Falling and joining Hell’s ranks, Frank has always done what has been asked of him. Would he not be on Hell’s Guard if our captain didn’t trust him?”

The Devil squints and Bob actually begins to look afraid.

“Go on…”

Ray nods and runs a hand over Frank’s horns.

“Bob has tried to prove Frank’s disloyalty from the beginning. A few decades after Frank Fell, he spent years deceiving him into believing they were friends. Only for Bob to pry into his past and then attempt to twist his words of remembering his life in Heaven. That ended in Bob making an attempt on Frank’s life. You can see, his horns are small and damaged because Bob took them. Frank fought back, but only in self defense.”

“What is your _point_ , Ray?”

“Sir,” Ray tilts his head in respect. “I am saying that while everything Bob has used in his accusations against Frank is, technically, true, he has twisted the wording to make them sound as if Frank was doing these things out of disrespect because he has always attempted to find fault in Frank’s character.”

“What about the human?”

Ray falters and Frank's chest seizes in panic. “I- I’m sorry, Sir. That part is true.”

Frank wants to be mad, wants to be upset that Ray didn’t stick to their lie. But there’s no point in lying right now. The Devil already knows the truth and all Frank can hope for now is a swift punishment and for Gerard to be left out of it.

“Oh? Is that so… I want to hear it from him.” He freezes in panic as He turns his attention directly to him. “Frank, did you fall in love with a human?”

Had He already known? Did Bob tell Him before the trial?

Fuck was all of this just a fucking setup? Was this all they cared about? That Frank fell in love with Gerard?

“Yes,” he whispers, though he keeps his head held high

. 

The Devil looks amused as he waves his hand. “Then my verdict has not changed. You willingly broke the rules and there must be punishment accordingly.”

Frank feels tears in his eyes but all he can do is nod. 

The Devil grins.

“And I know just the punishment equal to your crimes.”

“Wait!”

Everyone turns towards the door as Lyn-z strides in. She no longer looks like a human, now dressed in a long beautifully decorated dress. Her heels click on the polished stone floor, echoing through the now quiet court as she calmly comes up to stand beside Frank with her head held high. Her horns are… massive. Curling out and extending at least another foot above her head. They’re a soft, off white color and Frank swears to God that they glow. She radiates power and ancient energy, and even some of the oldest demons seem to look at her in respect. 

“My lord,” She greets, bowing her head slightly. 

To Frank’s surprise, the Devil actually looks surprised to see her. The emotion is gone in an instant and he is nodding his greeting as well, but Frank feels the smallest bubble of hope beginning to grow inside of him. 

“Sir, I _personally_ vouch for Frank’s honor. In the time that I have known him, he has shown to me that he is loyal to Hell and to you, my Lord.”

At this, the Devil gives Frank a very long once over. It makes his skin crawl and all he wants to do is run, but if there’s a _chance_ having Lyn-z vouch for him could change this then he knows he has to stay put. To act like the only thing in the world that is wants is the Devil’s acceptance.

“Lyndsay, you were a part of my court for many centuries. I respect your council, however I must ask why you are defending this demon. You are aware of what he is, yes?”

She nods but won’t look at Frank when he tries to catch her eye. “I know that he is a Fallen, Sir. But many demons of my age were as well. He may be the first Fallen in many centuries, but he is no less a demon. He has proven to me that he is loyal to you, Sir and that is why I ask for a lightening of his punishment.”

The Devil laughs, that horrible bone chilling laugh that Frank hates in his very soul. He feels Ray’s mind press hard against his, offering comfort but also seeking some from him as well. He’s just as terrified as Frank is. 

“And how do you wish for me to lighten his punishment?” He ventures. “Offer him the choice, Sir. If his loyalties are as divided as Bob claims, then have him choose.” Frank’s eyes go wide and he gasps without thinking. The Devil notices and smirks at him, clearly entertained by this idea.

“You have not stepped foot in Hell in a very long time, Lyndsay. And yet you act as if you hold sway over my court like you did before.” 

Lyn-z doesn’t answer and Frank can tell that she has something that she wants to say to that. But the Devil seems to have come to a conclusion and he turns back to Frank.

“Very well then, your punishment shall be simple, young Fallen. Just as your life has been torn in two, caught between the Heaven of your birth and the Hell of your current existence, you must now choose. Either you may remain here, keeping your position and your powers, and forgetting about the human upon pain of his death.” He raises one brow and leans forward in His throne. “ _Or_ you may choose to abandon this place and live on Earth. But you will have to fight your way out as I do not often allow my subjects to walk away.”

His smile is wicked, his eyes dancing in a sick form of pleasure. Frank’s heart drops. Because the answer is obvious, isn’t it? 

He will give all of this up in a _heartbeat_ if it means that he can be with Gerard, will be able to hold him again. To see the way his smile lights up his entire face, hear him whisper Frank’s name like it’s something special. 

It’s worth the risk, it’s worth the chances of him dying before he even makes it back to Earth. For Gerard, it’s worth it. 

______________________________

“Do you even fucking know what you’re getting yourself _into_?” Ray shouts the second they make it to the cramped hallway that leads from the court.

Lyn-z had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared and Frank gets the feeling that he won’t be seeing her again. The Devil didn’t look entirely pleased to have seen her again and he’s made his choice and so, he won't be staying in Hell long enough to see her.

Frank flinches back from Ray on instinct, hating the way the anger burns in his eyes. It’s a deep orange and red, burning through the soft brown of his normal eye color. Hell fire. And it’s justified, seeing as Frank just threw away every attempt they made at getting him out of this.

“I know,” he admits brokenly, too afraid to find the energy to argue back. 

Because he _does_ know.

He knows this isn’t winning, he’s lost the trial and now they only have a few moments before he’s going to be essentially hunted for sport. That’s the condition. His freedom only comes if he can fend off the entire Guard on his own, long enough to make it to Gerard. It’s impossible and sure to get him killed but Frank doesn’t care. He realized what was more important.

It was a fragile human named Gerard. He’s more important than all of this. More so than Frank’s home, his job… all of it.

“You’ll lose your powers Frank! You’ll be human! Do you understand what that _means_?”

The way Ray says human, like he’s spitting it out as if the very word burns his tongue, it makes red hot anger rise up inside of Frank.

They’re fucking _wrong_ about humans. All of Hell is _wrong_.

Humans aren’t some disgusting infestation whose only purpose is to reproduce and provide souls for Hell. They’re not fucking evil or innately bad like everyone down here seems to assume. It’s so much more complicated than that. There’s so much more to them.

There’s a side that Gerard has shown him. 

The side of picnics in the park and eating at a nice restaurant with someone you enjoy spending time with. He took Frank to the beach this morning, let him stand in the waves for the first time in his 400 years of life. Hundreds of years of living and he’d never stared out at the horizon, or noticed how the world seemed to simply stop beyond that little hazy line. He’d never felt the waves crashing against his legs, never gotten sand in his hair. Never gotten a lazy day spent in the sand with someone he loves. 

As they laid there in the sand, wrapped in blankets and jackets and sipping coffee because it was freezing, Gerard had pulled a small box from his bag. He explained it was a present, since it was Christmas soon. Frank had opened it to find a plastic case with a DVD inside. Gerard had explained that it was his favorite horror movie and said that when- not _if_ \- Frank came back that they could watch it together.

Frank saw the more subtle side of humanity as well. The side that’d be so easy to miss. It’s in how stunning Gerard looks as he’s hunched over his drawing pad, his eyes focused solely on whatever he’s working on. How beautiful he looks with his hair sometimes pulled up in a hair tie as he works. Frank thinks that maybe that’s when he fell in love with him. That first time he saw him making art.

Because there is no ulterior motive for Gerard. He paints because he enjoys it, talks about horror movies because they’re his favorite. He hangs out with his brother because they’re just as close as he and Ray are. There’s no endgame, no ulterior motive for the things Gerard does. Just pure… _humanity_.

And Frank can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of _him_. 

Because Gerard wants him. He can hear clearly the way he had begged Frank to stay with him just a little longer, heartbroken that he had to leave. And Gerard tried to hide it, hide the tears that fell when Frank had to leave again. Frank sees though. He saw it in the smear of eyeliner on Gerard’s pillow from him crying in his sleep the night before after they fell asleep together. He noticed it in the tremble in Gerard’s hand as they ate breakfast right before they went to the beach.

It’s horrible, loving someone so much that it feels like your heart is going to burst out of your fucking chest whenever you’re with them but being the reason they have cried when you leave. And well, maybe Frank doesn’t want to leave again. Maybe he doesn’t want to be without Gerard any longer than he has to be.

“And what’s so bad about being human?” he demands at last, watching the way Ray’s face falls as he realizes Frank’s mind is made up.

He takes a long look at Ray because there’s something in his gut telling him this is the last time he’s ever going to see him. The way his long, curly hair brushes the tops of his shoulders. How his eyes are always so kind, you’d almost never assume he was a demon. Save for the curling horns poking out through the hair on the top of his head. 

He has strong horns, large and thick with age, though nowhere near as impressive as Lyn-z’s. Ray’s never had to regrow his, not like Frank has.

Frank remembers those decades well, doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the itching pain and humiliation of looking like a freshly born demon as he waited on them to regrow. Bob has always been bigger than him, older than him by eons, but he’s never been good at staying out of trouble. He can’t lie and say seeing him walk around with only one eye didn’t give Frank some form of satisfaction. As fucked up as that is. He’s glad that Ray wasn’t able to heal him, not completely. Bob doesn’t deserve Frank’s kindness, he knows that now.

But what makes this even harder is that he and Ray have been through so much together, _hundreds_ of years of friendship and jobs and- and Frank would be lying if he said he wasn’t going to miss him. He’s his best friend. His only friend before Gerard, Mikey, and Lyn-z.

“Frank…”

The anger’s gone now, Ray’s eyes slowly shifting back to their normal brown color as he realizes Frank’s serious about this.

“I love him,” Frank tells him honestly, desperately.

“I know… just- I can’t change your mind?”

Frank shakes his head and brings Ray in for one last hug. His chest hurts with it, with the way he knows he’s giving up the only thing he’s ever had. The only friend he’s ever had.

But Ray wasn’t the one who decided that Frank had to choose.

“Go,” Ray tells him as they pull apart. “I’ll keep the guards off of you as long as I can. Once you get to the surface they can’t hurt you but- but if you survive,” Frank takes a shaky breath at that, nodding his head. “you’ll be human.”

“I know. Thank you Ray.”

And so Frank wastes no time, he breaks off in a sprint as Ray turns to face the guards that will be there any minute.

______________________________________________

Gerard pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs. There’s nothing good on the TV, at least nothing entertaining enough to keep his mind off Frank. 

He’s been trying to keep himself busy today, to not think about the trial or how this morning at the beach very well might have been the last time he saw Frank. The thought leaves a sickening dread pooling in his stomach and that feeling behind his eyes that means he could cry at any moment.

Mikey kept him company for a while, seeing as he was off today. But when he had to go to class, Gerard wouldn’t let him skip. Just because he’s having a mild, ongoing anxiety attack doesn’t mean his brother should have to risk falling behind in his classes. 

But now that he’s alone here he’s regretting that choice a little. Having Mikey here would, at the very least, distract him from his worry. He’s helpless to stop anything that might be happening to Frank right now. Hell could have already decided to punish him. He could be in pain or- or-

Gerard shakes his head to clear the thought. No. Frank is going to be fine.

He’s the nicest person Gerard has ever met. The only person other than Lyn-z and his brother to look at him and not see some creepy anxiety ridden hermit. And Frank didn’t just become his friend, he became more than that. He’s someone that Gerard knows in his heart that he can trust. He could tell frank anything and nothing would change. And he knows, he hopes, that Frank knows he could do the same with Gerard. 

But all of those things, they don’t matter when it comes to Hell. Frank explained yesterday about how Hell strives for loyalty over kindness. Gerard had figured that was the case, but it still makes him worry. Frank’s a good person and, from what he’s heard, so is Ray. But Frank especially, he doesn't have that sort of blind loyalty that Hell probably wants. Gerard doesn’t know how much give there is in regards to that.

Will Frank be punished simply for the extra time he took between assignments? Gerard knows that he didn’t exactly rush into each one. Or will their relationship be what’s picked apart? Because no matter how you look at it, Frank broke the rules when it comes to Gerard. 

And while Gerard loves him so much, is so amazed that he’d be willing to go against what he was taught nearly his whole life, he’s also terrified. He doesn’t know the punishment for dating a human but he can only assume the worst. Not to mention the fact that Frank used to be an angel. From the way he’s talked, demons don’t exactly trust those who’ve Fallen. 

The tightness in Gerard’s chest reaches a breaking point and he has to bury his face in his pajama pants as the tears begin to fall. He just wishes there was something he could _do_.

After everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve been through _together_ , it can’t just end like this… can it? 

Or is Gerard’s bad luck finally catching up with him. Will this just be another moment where he thinks he’s found happiness only for it to be ripped out of his hands?

He’s seconds away from just calling Mikey and asking him to come home. He thought he’d be okay on his own, or at least okay enough to wait until Mikey was done with classes. But he’s _not_. He needs his brother here, to make his head shut up long enough for him to find out how the trial went. 

There’s a loud crash in the kitchen. It startles Gerard and he whips his head in that direction. Sure they don’t live in the best neighborhood, but someone wouldn’t have broken in, would they? 

He stands slowly and blindly grabs the first thing his hand touches. An xbox controller. Great. He can scare the robber away with his shitty gaming skills. Mikey would be so proud.

Even so, he creeps forward slowly, the remote held high just in case. The lights are off in the kitchen but there’s the distinct smell of smoke coming from the area. Gerard squints and tries to decide if it’s a bad idea to turn on the light and investigate.

Could it be another ghoul?

But that wouldn’t make sense. Frank’s had his energy masked for weeks now and so has Lyn-z. There’s no way for the ghoul to have been able to smell either of them and track them here. 

Gerard _is_ wearing Frank’s jacket though. Could that be it? He’d assumed that since Frank let him keep it as a sort of remember me by thing, that that meant ghouls wouldn’t be able to track him down. 

Anxiety pools in his gut again but he lifts the remote higher, takes a breath, and quickly leans into the kitchen long enough to flip the light on. He backs out just as fast and scans the room for any sign of massive black dogs. Nothing seems out of place, until he looks to his left at the cabinet where their pots and pans are stored. Every single one is on the floor and the cabinet itself looks like it’s been hit by a meteor, smoking and blackened around the edges. 

But, what makes Gerard’s breath hitch, is the small, pained groan that comes from underneath the mess on the floor.

Confused, he lowers the controller a little and takes a hesitant step forward. As he does so, there’s a quiet, “Gee?”

He drops the controller without a second thought and rushes over to where Frank’s hand is now pushing his mother’s casserole dish off his chest. Gerard falls to his knees beside him and helps him take the rest of the dishes off. What he finds underneath though makes his eyes go wide with panic and worry.

Frank’s covered head to toe in ash, the edges of his clothes burned just like the cabinet. Through the holes in his shirt, Gerard can see blistered red skin. He can only stare as Frank curses his way through sitting up.

“Frank,” Gerard breathes, his hands hovering over a particularly bad burn on his arm. 

But Frank just gives him a lopsided smile, almost too big.“Hey, Gee.”

There’s a nasty bump already forming on his forehead, presumably from the pans that he must have fallen into, and Gerard can smell the odd stench of burned skin and clothing. It makes him nauseous but it’s with a sort of morbid fascination that he’s able to hold Frank close to his chest.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

Frank giggles like he’s high and shakily wraps his arms around Gerard as well. That makes the worry resurface though and he pulls back to take another look at him. He’s bleeding in a few places where there are minor cuts into his skin and he looks like he literally just went through Hell and back.

Jesus can Frank not go two _days_ without nearly fucking dying on him?

His anger dissipates and turns to concern as Frank sags against him, his head lolling to his shoulder as he holds him against his chest. Fuck. What did they _do_ to him?

“Frankie?” Gerard asks softly, his voice raising a bit in pitch and betraying his concern.

“I’m okay…”

Gerard doesn’t believe it for a second. He carefully brushes the hair out of Frank’s eyes and, keeping his touch gentle, rubs tiny circles at his temple. Frank sighs pleasantly and relaxes a bit, but there's still clearly something wrong. Gerard just doesn’t know if he wants to know. If Frank is here, that means he won… right?

“What happened to you?” Gerard asks slowly, searching Frank’s eyes as he blinks dazedly.

“ ‘s a long story…”

Something shifts in his expression and he almost looks… nervous?

“You don’t have to tell me now. We can just go get you cleaned up.”

But Frank shakes his head. “No, ‘s okay. Just, give me a second.”

So Gerard lets him lean his head against his shoulder and close his eyes. He can tell Frank doesn’t fall asleep but he’s clearly exhausted. The worry he feels is building but he manages to keep it under control. At last, Frank opens his eyes and shifts so he’s at least mostly sitting up.

“My trial was today,” he begins weakly. Gerard just nods. He knew that much. “And I lost.”

He gasps, he can’t help it, and his hand trembles as he takes Frank’s and carefully folds them together.

“They did this to you?”

Frank nods. “I lost but Lyn-z saved my ass again. She helped me get a lesser punishment. They would’a killed me, or banished me or whatever, but I got to make a choice.”

At this, Gerard frowns. “A choice between what?”

Frank’s face grows sad and he looks away. “Between you and Hell.”

“What-” he has to stop and swallow down the emotions swirling up in his throat and choking him. “What did you choose?”

This time, the smile Frank gives him is different. Happy. Relieved. 

“You.”

Gerard makes a choked sound. “Me?”

“Yes you.”

There’s nothing he can say to that. What even _should_ he say? Frank just gave up nearly everything he knows just to be with Gerard. Nerdy, depressed, weirdo Gerard who will probably be more stressful to deal with than Hell itself. And Frank chose _him_. He can’t wrap his head around that. 

“There’s more,” Frank adds weakly. “Do you remember how I told you I Fell from Heaven for going against their rules?”

“Yeah. And that’s why Bob hates you and wants to get you in trouble. ‘Cause you used to be an angel.”

“Yeah… well, demons can Fall too.”

Frank doesn’t say anything after that and Gerard sputters. “I- Frank. What do you _mean_?”

“I Fell… again. That was my punishment.”

“No. Oh- jesus fucking _christ_ , Frank. You fucking _idiot_!”

But Gerard’s pulling him so tightly against him that he’s probably smothering out whatever reply Frank would have to that. He’s crying again but this time it’s a mix between crying over Frank going through that _again_ and pure fucking joy that that must mean he’s free. Hell can’t control him anymore. They can’t make him feel guilty for liking Gerard. Can’t force him to go on bullshit assignments. Can’t send fucking ghouls at him for no goddamn reason.

He's _free_.

“You’re not mad?” Frank whispers, clinging to Gerard now like he’s terrified he’s going to let go.

“ _Mad_? God no, Frank.” He pulls back and laughs wetly, wiping away one of Frank’s tears with the pad of his finger. “I can’t believe they made you go through that again but- but that means they don’t control you anymore. You’re free, Frankie.”

The relief is visible on his face as he wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gerard watches him wince as he sits back against what’s left of the cabinet.

“Did you mean it, the other day? When you said you wanted to be with me? I- I know it’s a lot but I’m human now and- and maybe we can try this properly this time?”

Gerard snorts and he would say something sarcastic in response, if it weren’t for how fragile Frank's expression is. He looks like he just lost everything. And in a way, he has. He’s hurt and completely on his own for the first time in his life, and Gerard understands that he’s afraid. 

“You can’t get rid of me just by destroying all of mom’s cooking things. Jokes on you, she has an entire shed full of even more outback.”

Frank laughs and lets Gerard pull him up. He leans heavily on him as he guides him up the steps towards the bathroom. It’s difficult to get him balanced on the toilet long enough for Gerard to fill the bath but somehow they manage. Every time he glances over, concerned that Frank’s going to fall, he finds him already looking at him, a gentle smile plastered on his face. It makes Gerard’s chest go warm, makes him fall somehow even more in love with him.

After the water is warm and there’s some of Gerard’s favorite soap lathered in, he carefully lowers Frank into the bath. He hisses as his burns come into contact with the water but all but melts into it a moment later. Gerard helps him lean back and rest his head against the edge of the tub, with his head in his lap.

His wings are gone now, Gerard notices quietly. There’s small scars leftover where they once connected, but it seems two Falls were too much for them. The halo is still on his wrist though, dull but just as saddening as the first time Gerard saw it. He never got to see Frank’s horns but he assumes those are gone as well.

He’s well and truly human now. And, as fucked up as everything he had to go through is, Gerard’s sort of glad. This means they have a second chance of sorts. Without Hell being in the way, without the ghouls. Just him and Frank. 

And maybe, this time Gerard will get his happy ending. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me you thoughts?


	15. Epilouge part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *mentions of torture  
> *aftermath of torture  
> {Neither are in detail but still}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit dudes, here we are. The end. I'mma save all my commentary for the end notes. Hope you all enjoy!

Frank leans back against the couch with a content sigh. A small, handmade photo album rests in his lap. His and Gerard’s names are written on the front in fancy, flowing lettering, courtesy of Gerard and the new sharpie he had that day.

He smiles to himself as he opens the album to the first page. There’s one picture on each page, the first being a large wide shot of an ocean view with the two of them standing together. Frank can still smell the salt in the air and how the early spring breeze made Gerard shiver. He had draped his jacket around Gerard’s shoulders and the two of them, giggling, had been unaware of Mikey snapping the picture. It’s a perfect candid shot, he thinks. Of the two of them simply smiling and laughing together. It makes his heart go all warm. 

The next picture is of the two of them, standing hand in hand as they exchanged their vows by those same waves. Gerard’s beautiful, pale blue dress flows down around him, gently folding and spilling out around his feet. Frank feels his stomach flutter at the memory. How Gerrard’s hands were shaking in his but his smile had been so happy, so real that nothing else mattered. Frank takes in his own excited expression in the photo, how there was a nervousness in him that made him stutter his way through the whole thing. It was the best day of his life. 

“Frank?” Two hands come to rest on his shoulders and a kiss is pressed to the top of his head. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Frank lifts the album up high enough for Gerard to see. He knows without losing that Gerard’s face blooms into a smile. 

“That’s my favorite picture of us,” he whispers, resting his chin on Frank’s head gently.

“Mine too.”

Something sweet smelling catches Frank’s attention and he leans his head back to look up at Gerard. There’s flour smeared on the side of his face and in his hair where some of the brown strands have fallen out of his ponytail. 

“What’re you baking?”

“ ‘s a surprise,” he replies cryptically.

Frank pretends to pout in response and Gerard rolls his eyes at him lovingly.

“Fine,” He draws out, pretending to be exasperated. “They’re almost done. Wanna come be my taste tester?”

Frank’s standing before Gerard’s even finished his sentence, all but running into the kitchen. 

This is something that he never gets tired of, getting to taste his husband’s baking before he takes it to the school or before Mikey comes over and eats all of it. 

It’s crazy, honestly. To think of how different things are now. 

These past six years have been some of the longest of his life, and that’s saying something because he is technically 406 years old, give or take. But all of his past, both in Heaven and in Hell, just seems so far away. As if he had been in a sort of standby mode until he met Gerard. And now that he’s with him, now that they’re married and living together and _happy_ , everything else just felt like he was waiting for this. 

Gerard follows him into the kitchen, only a step or two behind. He shoos Frank away from the oven so he can open the door and pull out the tray. Frank tries to peek around him and see what it is, but Gerard just laughs and tilts it enough for him to not be able to see it.

“C’mon, Gee,” he pleads half halfheartedly. “ What’d you make?”

Gerard just smiles sweetly and goes to set the tray on the counter. One of their phone’s rings suddenly, startling Gerard and causing him to accidentally graze his hand on the hot tray. He curses and jerks his hand away, quickly using his other to answer the still ringing phone.

Frank steps forward, concerned, as Gerard sighs and clutches his hand close to his chest.

“Hey, Mikey. Yeah. I know. Yeah. I am.” There’s a pause, probably while Mikey tells him something about the traffic because he’s driving all the way here instead of being a normal person and just flying. “I know. I told you to take the other road…. Well that’s not my fault you don’t listen, asshole.” Gerard laughs and after a few more insults, he hangs up and sets the phone back down.

Frank closes the distance between them and takes Gerard’s hand into his, inspecting the damage. The top of his hand is already red and painful looking, and Gerard winces when Frank gently touches the area.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, gesturing to the first aid kit that’s under the kitchen sink. “I think I’ve got some cream somewhere.”

Frank can only nod. Moments like this don’t happen often, where he misses everything he gave up. He’s happy here and, truthfully, he’d do all of it again just so he could have this. He has Gerard, he has the life they’ve built together. But every now and then it’ll sneak up on him, all the things he’s lost in the process. 

Because even though his powers were never the strongest, he still would have been able to heal Gerard’s burn. He’d have been able to make it not hurt anymore at the very least. And a part of him feels guilty. Maybe if he’d tried harder, fought against his punishment or found some other way, maybe then he wouldn’t be helpless when it comes to things like this. 

But he’s just human now. 

“Hey,” Gerard’s other hand lifts Frank’s chin carefully. “I’m okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I could have healed you…”

“You did heal me, baby. You saved me after the ghoul attacked.”

“But I can’t do that now. If you get hurt I can’t-”

“Frank,” Gerard’s hands come up to cup his face. “I’m not going to get hurt. We’re safe now. Hell isn’t after you anymore.”

And Frank knows he’s telling the truth, knows that all he has to worry about now are mundane human things like small burns from touching hot pans or Gerard’s allergies in the spring. 

So he nods, trying to let Gerard’s words convince that little voice in his head that keeps insisting that something will go wrong. 

Gerard looks relieved and he’s smiling as he leans down to capture Frank in a kiss. They end up forgetting about the cookies that Gerard baked, but that’s okay.

_____________________________________ 

Frank hasn’t done this in a long time. He knows that his powers aren’t… completely gone. They were ripped from him when he Fell again, yes, but there was some minor traces of his abilities left over. One, being his link with Ray. 

At first he had thought that was taken too, because he went nearly a year without feeling anything at all through the link. But then, one day, he’d been on the couch keeping Gerard company as he took notes for one of his college classes, and he’d felt it. The barest press of Ray’s mind against his own. It was gone nearly instantly. But it had been there. Ray had reached out to him.

It remained those weak presses, though. Frank sometimes initiated them, just to let Ray know he was thinking of him, But they never evolved into actual conversations, even when Frank was pretty sure that was something they were still able to do.

However, he’s putting that to the test today.

You see, it’s Christmas. And it marks Gerard’s first year teaching. Mikey is spending the week at their house, causing general Mikey chaos and acting as the second in line to taste Gerard's baking. And it just, feels odd to have Mikey here to celebrate, who’s honestly a brother to Frank at this point, and not have Ray here as well. 

And, while Frank wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to come over, he understands that that’d probably be too much, but he just- _has_ to ask. He misses Ray a lot. As nice as things are now, he can’t deny that it feels like something is missing. He went from Ray being his only friend, the only person he could go to, could talk to, to them not speaking for years. A lot has changed, he knows that. But a part of him can’t help but hope that they’re still friends even after all this time. 

‘Ray?’ he calls, concentrating hard to make sure it goes through.

His powers are barely a ghost of what they were and so he’s hidden himself away in his and Gerard’s bedroom, that way he can focus all of his energy into this. The familiar sheets of their bed are soft and warm underneath him and he can just barely hear Mikey and Gerard talking in the other room. He allows that familiarity to keep him grounded and to help him channel his focus into calling Ray.

A pang of sadness stabs at his chest when he receives no response after waiting a few long, impossibly slow minutes. But he just tries again, putting all of his strength into saying Ray’s name, praying that he’ll hear him. Hoping that he’ll want to answer.

‘What?’

Frank flinches, taken back by the harshness in Ray’s tone.

‘I-’

‘Spit it out, Frank. I don’t have all day.’

He nods shakily and tries to push down the hurt that’s building from how angry Ray sounds. He’s never heard him like this, at least not directed towards him. But that’s okay. Ray _answered_. He can _hear_ him and that counts as progress.

‘Um. I just- hadn’t seen you since I, you know and-’

‘Since you decided that a human you knew for a _month_ was more important to you than I was,” Ray interrupts, his voice cold. 

And that hurts because he’s _right_. He did choose Gerard over him, even when he’s known Ray for so long. He doesn’t regret his choice, but he does wish that there’d have been some other way. Especially when he can hear the tinge of hurt that’s masked under Ray’s anger.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly, tugging at the strings of the blanket he’s sitting on. 

He means it. He never meant to hurt Ray. But a simple apology doesn’t fix things and Frank knows that; he just doesn’t know how to fix this. 

To his surprise however, the anger wafting off of Ray wavers and Frank gets an image of him sitting down. A quiet, understanding sort of feeling passes through their bond.

‘Me too.’

‘I wish I’d had another option, Ray,’ he admits, making a conscious effort to take all his walls down so Ray can feel his sincerity. ‘I’ve thought about you a lot.’

‘I know. I felt you trying to reach out.’

‘Then why didn’t you say anything back? I thought you couldn’t hear me most of the time.’

Ray must hear the hurt in his voice because, even though his anger at Frank returns, it’s overshadowed by something… sad. Almost mourning.

‘It’s a long story, Frank. I- I thought that I was mad at you for a long time. But,’ Ray lets out a huffing sigh. ‘I’m not. I can’t be mad at you. It’s not your fault. They made you choose. And I- I understand why you chose him.’

Frank’s heart hurts, hearing Ray sound so lost. He’s had Gerard this whole time but Ray has been alone, and that’s _his_ fault. No wonder he was mad at Frank. Fuck, he should _still_ be mad at him because he never even considered that until just now. 

‘Fuck Ray…’

‘It’s okay. I’m sorry too.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ he admits, listening to the sound of Ray’s breathing. 

They’re more connected now than they’ve been for a while. The link sometimes is more like a string, extended between them so they can pass along quick messages or words. Other times it’s like this, wide open and so strong that they’re essentially in the same room. Frank can almost feel Ray’s weight beside him on the bed, can see his face almost perfectly. Almost. It’s blurry, for some reason, but Frank’s accounting that to the fact that they’re so far apart and that he doesn’t exactly have any actual magic anymore. 

‘Um, so I actually wanted to ask… it’s Christmas, you know, and- and Gee always makes too many cookies and- um… maybe you could come over?’

Frank holds his breath as he waits for Ray’s answer. There’s a long pause, one where he can feel Ray mulling it over. There’s something almost fearful coming through their link, as if he’s afraid of meeting Gerard and eating cookies shaped like little stockings. There’s even some shaped like reindeer that he got to draw faces on with icing. 

‘Will- um- will Gerard be okay with that?’ Ray asks eventually, carefully neutral. 

‘Yep. I asked and he said he’d love to meet you.’

‘... okay.’

Frank can’t stop the smile that blooms on his face, or the way he has to stand up and start walking around the room as he starts firing off questions.

‘I know Christmas isn’t until the day after tomorrow but maybe you could come by today? ‘Cause Mikey’s gonna be here soon, that’s Gee’s brother, and if you get here today then you won’t have to meet both of them at once. You know?’ he turns and starts restlessly folding some of the laundry on their bed, just for something to do with his hands. ‘And, we’re doing the last of the decorations tonight so you could help with those too. We have like a tradition of not putting th’ star on until the night before and you’re like- super tall so you could help and we wouldn’t have to get out the ladder.’

Ray laughs, but it’s an easy, familiar sort of laugh that makes Frank feel like no time has passed at all. His face hurts from smiling so much.

‘Yeah,’ Ray replies softly. ‘I can come over now, if that’s not too soon?’

‘Hell yeah! Wait… do you have like- court or anything right now?’

There’s a moment’s pause before Ray says a quiet no, and then Frank is washed up in the excitement of him telling him he’s making the portal. He hears the tell tale sound of a portal ringing into existence as the room gains a red glow. 

It opens right by his bed, a swirling red and black portal that, after a second or two, Ray steps out from. 

Frank wastes absolutely no time in running up and tackling Ray with a hug. Rather than catching him like normal, and probably shouldering him off of him, Ray stumbles and Frank has to be the one to catch him. 

He pulls back, sheepish, and mumbles hurried apologizes as Ray steadies himself against the bed. Now that Frank’s looking at him, he’s pale and looks drained just from making the portal. His clothes are clean but appear more for lounging than actually going out, and look to be well worn. As if he’s been wearing them more often than his work clothes. His hair is longer though, sorta tangled and maybe a little dull, and his eyes are carefully avoiding Frank’s.

Something’s missing, something off but he can’t put his finger on it. That is, until he happens to glance at Ray’s hair again. And then it hits him. His horns. They’re _gone_. 

Not hidden by a glamor. _Gone._

“Ray,” he whispers, not knowing if it’s a question or a plea. 

Ray’s laugh is hollow, too flimsy to be at all comforting. 

“What happened?” he manages, dragging his eyes away from where Ray’s horns should be and forcing himself to look at his face.

“You didn’t think they let me get away with interfering and helping you escape, did you?”

Frank’s heart plummets at that as he realizes exactly what Ray means. He hadn’t thought much of it, Ray holding off the guards for him to leave Hell. But he _should_ have. 

Of course they’d be pissed that he essentially took a part of Frank’s punishment for him. But he just didn’t even consider that Ray would be punished _too_.

“I- Fuck Ray… will they- will they grow back?”

“No. He knows how to do it differently,” Ray explains weakly. “ It’s… worse. They’re gone for good.”

Ray looks so fragile all of a sudden, stripped of his normal power and easy energy. He looks, fuck he looks like a Fallen. And, essentially he is.

A demon striped of their horns is basically a shell of a demon. They may have their powers, a few, but most of their demonic energy, what makes them a demon, is in the horns. Without that, they're barely more than human. For Ray to have lost his… fuck. How close did he get to Falling too?

“ _Fuck_ ,” Frank breathes sharply.

He doesn't know what to _do_. Nothing he can say can fix this. 

This was his fault. After everything Ray’s done for him, after all the times he’s saved Frank’s ass. After 400 fucking _years_ of being friends.

“Fuck I am so sorry Ray,” he shakes his head and takes a step closer. “I didn’t- I didn’t think they'd punish you. The thought never even crossed my mind and-”

Ray’s hand comes out to his arm, making him stop rambling long enough for him to speak. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ ,” he whispers, staring at the top of Ray’s head as if he could stare long enough to make his horns reappear.

The smile that he gives Frank is real though, as if he understands but there’s nothing either of them can do about it. And Frank _hates_ that Ray’s so okay about this. He was there when he thought he’d lost his horns, he sat there with Frank through his breakdown and assured him that everything was okay. And it had been. His horns grew back.

But Ray’s _won’t_ and that’s all his head keeps replaying. That this is his fault. Ray was hurt because of him and yet, here he is, coming over the second Frank asks him to. 

“Why?”

Ray frowns. “Why what?”

“After all these years, after the shit I put you through _again_ … why did you even answer my call?”

The look Ray gives him is one that he knows all too well. A fond, you're being an idiot again. smile that makes the corner of his eyes crease. 

“Because you’re my friend, Frank.”

Frank shakes his head. “From now on you’re not allowed to save my ass ever again.”

Ray, the absolute asshole, has the audacity to laugh at him.

“I’m serious. You’re gonna come with me into the kitchen and you’re gonna let me an’ Gee make you something to eat. And then you’re gonna take a nap too because you look exhausted.”

The exasperation is visible in Ray’s eyes but he smiles fondly again. “You don’t have to. I can just go and say hi.” he looks down, fiddling with the hem at his knee. “I don’t wanna push into what you have here.”

“Too late. Gee already knows like- everything about you.” 

Ray snorts but he still looks hesitant. “You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

Finally, Ray smiles and nods once. He lets Frank pull him up and even lets him keep him steady as they leave the room. 

Frank knows how he probably feels, seeing as he was always shit at portals. So before he introduces him to Gerard, he snatches a cookie from the kitchen and hands it to Ray on the couch.

“Thanks,” he says as he takes a bite. “Fuck these ‘re good.”

“I’ve got a lotta practice dealing with magic that doesn’t wanna cooperate. And I know, Gee’s like, stupid good at this shit.”

“I heard my name,” comes Gerard’s voice from the hallway.

He walks into the living room slowly, a shy smile on his face. He’s changed out of his flour covered shirt and is now wearing a comfy looking sweater and jeans. His hair's down now, falling and curling ever so slightly at his shoulders. He’s wearing just enough makeup for it to be noticeable and Frank falls in love with him a little more.

“We found another person who likes your cooking,” Frank supplies, sitting down beside Gerard on Ray’s other side.

Gerard laughs a little self consciously and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“ ‘m pretty sure most people enjoy cookies in general. But thank you.” 

“Best cookie I’ve had in a long time,” Ray tells him earnestly as he extends his hand for Gerard to shake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years.”

Ray’s smile is hard to miss and Frank feels the worry clinging to his mind slip away. He’d almost been afraid of Ray’s interactions with a human, seeing as Hell isn’t exactly that accepting. But clearly he’d worried for nothing. Ray’s a good dude and if he could take in a Fallen like Frank, there’s no wonder he and Gerard get along almost instantly. 

Mostly frank just sits back and lets them get to know each other, only really supplying things every so often. That doesn’t seem to bother the other two though. Gerard casually mentions something about teaching art to his high school students and then the two of them are off, talking about everything from old artists to music. When Ray lets slip that he plays guitar, Frank gets roped into the conversation again. 

“Yeah!” Ray says animatedly. “Me and Frank basically learned together. We’ve been playing for a while, just casually, you know?”

Gerard nods. “I’m pretty new to it. Never even picked one up until I went back to school. But Frank’s been giving me lessons and I’ve been slowly getting better.”

Before Frank can add that Gerard’s doing pretty damn good for someone who knew next to nothing to begin with, the doorbell rings. He already knows it’s Mikey before he even gets up to open the door.

Mikey greets him with a tight hug, tired looking from driving for 2 days straight but also filled with that same buzzed holiday feeling that Frank has. He loves the end of the year, honestly. It’s holiday after holiday and things just feel a little bit brighter when there’s decorations of some kind scattered around their house.

He ushers Mikey in and points him in the direction of the living room, only stopping to quickly grab his arm.

“Do you remember Ray?”

“Yes,” Mikey asks, suspicious.

“I asked him to come over for the holiday and he’s in the living room.”

“Sick,” is all Mikey says.

Frank rolls his eyes and follows him back into the other room. Mikey sits on the couch with Ray, putting Gerard \in the middle. They’re doing introductions again and, as he sits down on an armchair, he notices Mikey do an odd series of half glances in Ray’s direction. Gerard catches on too and raises one eyebrow. Mikey returns with a shake of his head and some darting eye movements. 

Gerard smiles wickedly, like Mikey’s just told him some big secret, but continues talking to Ray like it’s no big deal.

All Frank can do is laugh to himself. Even after all this time, he’s never been able to understand those two’s silent conversations. 

Though, he does catch Ray glancing at Mikey every so often too… interesting. He’s going to have to convene with Gerard later to figure out what that’s about. 

“So Frank,” Ray asks, pulling Frank back into the conversation. “Mind telling me what you’ve been up to over the past six years?”

And he just smiles and leans over to grab the scrapbook, flipping to the first page and handing it over to Ray. 

It’s kinda a long story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprinkles Ray and Mikey in there at the last second bc I didn't get a chance to make it a thing <3*  
> So, first things. I changed it. Again haha. The original ending had like an actual many plot thing happening and it just felt like too much to add onto an ending you know? so i scrapped that idea and made this instead. Which, I feel flows much better and, hopefully, wraps things up well.  
> Small clarification bc I didn't really go into the details that much. Gee went back to college and decided to become an art teacher. He and Frank moved in together in a nice little town and they have many dogs (though they didn't make an appearance sadly) Gerard also does commission things on the side and Frank stays at home to take care of the dogs (and his husband). And Mikey lives out of state and now works in the music industry, signing small punk bands and even doing things like filming music videos. He is very single. For now. ;)  
> I've said this a bunch, but this fic has become one of my favorites for a lot of reasons. But mainly, it's because I've been able to project my shit onto gee throughout this whole thing. I was a little worried at first, cause it felt weird, but turns out, according to my therapist at least, that doing that is a good thing. So I just went all out. And because of that this fic became very personal to me. I don't have my like, happy ending or whatever yet -cause real life isn't a story- but it's put things in prospective and let me rant some of the junk that goes on in my head. I truly recommend pouring some of your stuff onto characters, very therapeutic.  
> I also really wanna thank you guys. This has become one of my biggest fics and the amount of love and support I've been given over these past few months has honestly meant the world to me. You guys are amazing and I wouldn't be able to do this without you!  
> Very huge thank you to Wander for being an amazing beta and an even better friend. This fic exists largely bc of her <3  
> So yeah, what do you guys think? Feel free to let me know if you liked this ending better than the old one haha


End file.
